"Tommy," I let the film swing back and caught him by the shoulders, "Miss Graham's father carries a photograph like that in the inside pocket of a white flannel coat which hangs behind his stateroom door!" He looked me up and down, this time more seriously, and murmured: "Whiz-bang!--but you must have been heroically decorated last night! Still, I can't see that it hurt you much, for you look about twice as fit as when we left Miami." "I'll bet I didn't drink an ounce more than you, or Monsieur," I declared. "The facts of the matter are, Tommy, that there's a lot mighty curious about this picture!" "Really?" he grinned. "You go below and take something with a dash of bitters in it." "Dry up," I snapped. "I tell you I'm going to catch up with that yacht if we have to follow her around the world!" He gave a low whistle, saying with good-natured tolerance: "Looks like the big adventure's on the wing, doesn't it! Well, I don't mind chasing the old tub, or doing any other damphule thing in reason, but what's the game? Put me next! When was this earthquake that loosened all your little rivets? Speak up, son--I'm your _padre_!" "It's hard to explain," I turned again to the negative, feeling too serious for his asinine humor. "But I'll honestly try to before night. This girl needs me. I don't know why or how, but she does. What's more, I'm going to find her. It's the most unheard-of situation, old man." "I'd be ashamed to belittle a situation like this by the mere term 'unheard-of,'" he now laughed outright. "Anyhow, she doesn't need you at present quite as much as you need scientific attention--and I hear the professor moving around!" Stepping to the companionway door he bawled some nonsense to our guest about bringing up his medicine chest and a rope, then turned back to me. "You see, Jack, I consider this to be serious. As long as I've known you that lady in the porthole is the first female you've ever thought of with any sign of, what I might call, _ardeur_. Where you met her is your business, but how you're going to get her must naturally concern us all. Hence Monsieur to consult with!" We could hear Monsieur's grunts and wheezes before he appeared, and on catching sight of me he actually skipped to us. It was a grotesque exhibition that made me burst out laughing. His hair was tousled, his eyes were half closed, and he looked about as much like a scrambled egg as anything I could think of. "We lost you last night," he cried. "You ran away from us?" "He was poisoned," Tommy blandly answered, "and now his heart's kind of upside-down and twisty." "Upside-down and twisty?" he gasped. "Tommy doesn't mean it's anything dangerous, just an affection; a kind of--a kind of----" "A kind of affectionate affection," Tommy put in. "You see, he was stung there, and it itches, and he can't scratch it." "Stung on the heart? _Sacre nomme!_" The old fellow clasped his head in both hands and stared at us.