“Well, Mr. Frowningshield,” said the young man, returning from the side, “if you’re as hungry as I am, you’ll enjoy this meal. Come along.” The manager did enjoy the meal, and they lingered long over the consuming of it, coming up on deck after it was over to indulge in coffee, liquors, and cigars. The manager fell under the charm of the young man’s conversation, and began to revise his first estimate that his host was a fool. He had drunk but sparingly of the generous wine, yet in the glow of contentment which it produced he laughed quietly to himself now and then at the unfounded fears of the captain, which had cause him to run away from so excellent a repast. “If this is a cigar from a similar box to the one you gave the captain, the old man is to be congratulated.” “Yes, it is. The captain, of course, will see civilization long before you do, and so can provide himself with any variety of the weed he fancies; but you, in this out-of-the-world place, are not so fortunate, therefore I must beg of you to accept six boxes in remembrance of the enjoyable time I have spent in your society.” “Why, Mr. Stranleigh, I’m awfully much obliged, and I may tell you at once I am not going to refuse. A man doesn’t get a present like that every year of his life, worse luck.” “Then to make up the average, Mr. Frowning-shield, you must let me add a few cases of our champagne.” “Really, you are most kind. I don’t know how to thank you.” “Don’t attempt it, I beg of you.” A steward approached and presented Stranleigh with a sealed envelope, which, begging the pardon of his guest, he tore open, saying: “I give all my orders in writing, so that there can be no mistake, and I rarely receive verbal reports from any one.” “A good idea,” said Frowningshield. “Yes, it prevents disputes afterwards.” He read to himself the penciled words of the telegrapher who had transcribed a wireless message from the hilltop. “The _Rajah_ is turning round, and is evidently about to depart.” Stranleigh, with a pencil, wrote on the back of the letter the following dispatch to Mackeller. “Report once more if the _Rajah_ actually sails; then take with you anything you don’t want to leave, and come down to the water. The motor boat will be waiting for you. Come aboard at the prow, and get immediately out of sight in the forecastle, for sitting aft with me is the man who kicked you down into the hold, and I don’t wish him to recognize you.” Giving this to the waiting steward, Stranleigh resumed conversation with his guest, who showed no desire to depart. Shortly after came the second message: “The Rajah has sailed. Send motor boat now.” Stranleigh folded up the sheet of paper, and handed it to the steward. “Give that to the captain,” he said, and a few minutes later the purr of the motor boat was heard leaving the ship. The sound aroused Frowningshield.