The ouija board was quiet for a moment or two. Then the pencil began to move across the paper. Mr. Neilsen did not understand why. Miss Depew certainly looked quite blank; and the movement seemed to be independent of their own consciousness. It was making marks on the paper, and that was all he expected it to do. At last Miss Depew withdrew her hand and exclaimed: "It's too exhausting. Read it, somebody!" Mr. Pennyfeather picked it up, and laughed. "Looks to me as if the spirits are a bit erratic to-night. But the writing's clear enough, in a scrawly kind of way. I'm afraid it's utter nonsense." He began to read it aloud: "Exquisitely amusing! Uncle Hyacinth's little appendix----" At this moment he was interrupted. Mr. Neilsen had risen to his feet as if he were being hauled up by an invisible rope attached to his neck. His movement was so startling that Mrs. Pennyfeather emitted a faint, mouselike screech. They all stared at him, waiting to see what he would do next. But Mr. Neilsen recovered himself with great presence of mind. He drew a handkerchief from his trousers pocket, as if he had risen only for that purpose. Then he sat down again. "Bardon me," he said; "I thought I vas aboud to sneeze. Vat is the rest of id?" He sat very still now, but his mouth opened and shut dumbly, like the mouth of a fish, while Mr. Pennyfeather read the message through to the end: "Exquisitely amusing! Uncle Hyacinth's little appendix cut out. Throat enlarged. Consuming immense quantities pork sausages; also onions wholesale. Best greetings. Fond love. Kisses." "I'm afraid they're playing tricks on us to-night," said Mr. Pennyfeather. "They do sometimes, you know. Or it may be fragments of two or three messages which have got mixed." "Hold on, though!" said the captain. "Didn't you send a wireless the other day, Mr. Neilsen, to somebody by the name of Hyacinth?" "Well--ha! ha! ha! It was aboud somebody by that name. I suppose I must have moved my hand ungonsciously. I've been thinking aboud him a great deal. He's ill, you see." "How very interestin'," cooed Mrs. Pennyfeather, drawing her chair closer. "Have you really an uncle named Hyacinth? Such a pretty name for an elderly gentleman, isn't it? Doesn't the rest of the message mean anything to you, then, Mr. Neilsen?" He stared at her, and then he stared at the message, licking his lips. Then he stared at Captain Abbey and Miss Depew. He could read nothing in their faces but the most childlike amusement. The thing that chilled his heart was the phrase about onions. He could not remember the meaning, but it looked like one of those innocent commercial phrases that had been embodied in the code. Was it possible that in his agitation he had unconsciously written this thing down?