At 9.50 that night Mackeller was in occupation of his most comfortable little room in the sleeping car of the Penzance express, and an excellent night’s rest followed his busy day. Seven o’clock next morning found him at breakfast in Redruth, and so resolutely did he go about his business that in two days he formed complete the organization which was to operate the old copper mine. Then he took train for Plymouth, and was rowed out in the evening to the white yacht at anchor in the harbor, resting beautiful as a swan on the placid waters. Mackeller was astonished to find her so great a boat. She was almost as large as the _Rajah_, but of much more dainty shape, her fine lines giving promise of great speed. Thin cables, extending from slanting mast to slanting mast, he recognized as the outside paraphernalia for wireless telegraphy, and although he saw from this that Lord Stranleigh treated himself to the latest scientific inventions, he was quite unprepared for the quiet luxury that everywhere met his eye once he was aboard of the yacht. He found Lord Stranleigh aft, seated in a cane chair, his feet resting on another. He had been reading the latest evening paper brought aboard, and he laid this on his knee as he looked lazily up at his mining engineer. “Finished with copper, Mackeller?” he asked. “Yes, my lord.” “I did not expect you before to-morrow night. I imagine, you gave your disconcerting energy full play down in Cornwall.” “I have been reasonably busy, my lord.” “Would you mind pressing that electrical button? It is just out of my reach.” Mackeller did so, and a cabin boy immediately put in an appearance. “Go forward, and ask Captain Wilkie if he will be good enough to allow me a word with him.” Captain Wilkie proved to be a grizzled old sea-dog of unmistakably Scotch extraction. He rolled aft, and saluted his owner. “Everything ready, captain?” “Everything ready, sir.” “Very well; up anchor and away.” The captain went forward and mounted the bridge. “Draw up your chair, Peter, and let me have your verbal report, and as you drop into the chair, drop also that appellation ‘my lord.’ If you want to be extra respectful at any time, say ‘sir’ as the captain does, and I’ll do the same by you, if you require it.” Mackeller gave him a full account of his occupation during the last three days, but whether Stranleigh was asleep or not throughout the recital, he could not be sure. At any rate he did not interrupt, but lay back in his chair with closed eyes. Then, without opening them, he remarked: “You have done very well, Mackeller, and as a reward I will give you the choice of a spot in the Bay of Biscay or the Atlantic Ocean where you may wish your case of rifles and ammunition heaved overboard.” “Oh, have you been examining my dunnage, sir?” asked Mackeller.