Part 8 (1/2)

Later that morning something happened which caused Jack to cudgel his brain still further to explain the underlying mystery that he was sure encircled the girl and Jarrold, and in which Colonel Minturn was in some way involved.

He was sitting at the key with the door flung open to admit the bright suns.h.i.+ne which sparkled on a sea still rough, but as a mill pond compared with the tumult of the night before, when there came a sudden call.

”_Tropic Queen. Tropic Queen. Tropic Queen._”

”Yes, yes, yes,” flashed back Jack.

He turned around to Sam.

”I'll bet a million dollars that it is a navy or an army station calling,” he said. ”You can't mistake the way those fellows send. It is quite different from a commercial operator's way of pounding the bra.s.s.”

A moment later he was proved to be right.

”This is the _Iowa_,” came the word. ”We are relaying a message from Was.h.i.+ngton to Colonel Minturn on board your s.h.i.+p. Are you ready?”

”Let her come,” flashed back Jack.

He drew his yellow pad in front of him and sat with poised pencil waiting for the message to come through the air from a s.h.i.+p that he knew was at least two hundred miles from him by this time.

”It is in code; the secret government code,” announced the naval man.

”That makes no difference to me,” rejoined Jack. ”Pound away.”

”All right, old scout,” came through the air, and then began a topsyturvy jumble of words utterly unintelligible to Jack, of course.

The message was a long one, and about the middle of it came a word that made Jack jump and almost swallow his palate.

The word was _Endymion_, the name of the yacht that had sent out a call for Jarrold through the storm.

Then, closely following, came a name that seemed to be corelated to every move of the yacht: James Jarrold!

At last the message, about two hundred words long, was complete. It was signed with the President's name, so Jack knew that it must be of the utmost importance. He turned in his chair as he felt someone leaning over him and noticed a subtle odor of perfume. Miss Jarrold, with parted lips, was scanning the message eagerly. He caught her in the act.

But the young woman appeared to be not the least disconcerted by the fact. With a wonderful smile she extended a sheet of paper.

”Will you send this message for me as soon as you can, please?” she asked.

Jack was taken aback. He had meant to accuse her point blank of trying to read off a message which was clearly of a highly important nature.

But her clever ruse in providing herself with the scribbled message that she now held out to him had quite taken the wind out of his sails.

”Here, Sam, take this message to Colonel Minturn at once,” he said, thrusting the paper into Sam's hands and carefully placing his carbon copy of it in a drawer.

”Now, Miss,” he said, looking the girl full in the eyes, ”I'll take your message.”

”Oh, I've changed my mind now,” said the girl suddenly turning. ”Sorry to have troubled you for nothing. Don't forget about the _Endymion_ now.”

And she was gone.

”Well, what do you know about that?” muttered Jack. ”A woman is certainly clever. Of course, she merely came in here to see what was going on, and, by Jove, she came in at just the right time, too. Lucky the message was in code. And then she was foxy enough to have that message of hers all ready so that I couldn't say a thing. Oh, she's smart all right! I wish I knew what game was up. I was right about Colonel Minturn playing some part in it, judging from that dispatch, but for the life of me I can't make out what is up.”