PS 
 
 3S3<i 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 ^. L. Ha;nilton 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 3539.R15C2 
 
 C Q" or In the wireless house / 
 
 3 1924 021 710 789 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021710789 
 
takdn. 
 
 "C 0" 
 
 OR, 
 
 IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR TRAIN 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE PRISONER AT THE BAR," "MCALLISTER AND 
 HIS DOUBLE," " TRUE STORIES OF CRIME," " THE CON- 
 FESSIONS OF ARTEMUS QUIBBLE," ETC., ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 By R. M. CROSBY 
 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1912 
 
Copyright, 1912, by 
 The Century Co. 
 
 Copyright, 1912, by 
 The McClure Publications, Inc. 
 
 Published, August, jgis 
 
TO 
 
 ADELE 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Micky " quarrels with the captain of the 
 Pavonia, and becomes pals with a lady in high 
 society , . , » 3 
 
 II 
 
 Micky stumbles upon a peculiar passenger and 
 explains the mysteries of the wireless to a young 
 lady 25 
 
 III 
 
 The reader learns something of the career of 
 an international beauty, and attends vicariously 
 an artistic entertainment in the second cabin 
 saloon 42 
 
 IV 
 
 • «CQ — CQ — CQ— !" In which Micky 
 learns of the murder of the Earl of Roakby at 
 Parsley Croft 56 
 
 V 
 
 In which Micky overhears a midnight conver- 
 sation and prevents the commission of a crime . i. 66 
 
 vii 
 
CONTENTS 
 VI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 In which Micky tucks the son of a Marquis in 
 his bed and mixes some drinks and the news . . 78 
 
 VII 
 
 In which Mrs. Herbert Trevelyan commits an 
 indiscretion and discovers something while so doing 93 
 
 VIII 
 
 In which Micky has a strange dream and Mrs. 
 Trevelyan becomes worried about pearls and other 
 things no 
 
 IX 
 
 In which Micky hears a confession and Is forced 
 to deliver an unfortunate message . :. . . .127 
 
 X 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan makes an error of judgment 
 and the Captain scores .148 
 
 XI 
 
 Micky's mind is momentarily relieved . . .171 
 
 XII 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan has a bad quarter of an hour . 182 
 viii 
 
CONTENTS 
 XIII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 In which many persons are surprised . . .198 
 
 XIV 
 At close quarters 206 
 
 XV 
 
 Micky plays father confessor for the second time 215 
 
 XVI 
 In which every minute counts 227 
 
 XVII 
 The way of a maid with a man 244 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan avails herself of a " locu peni- 
 tentiae" 255 
 
 XIX 
 
 In which the rSt-faced purser, some others, and 
 perhaps the reader, receive a jolt 273 
 
 IX 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Micky left her standing gracefully in the 
 
 wind Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan and a dark gentleman were calmly 
 eating from his operating-desk 21 
 
 " What are you doing on this boat ? " It was Mrs. 
 Trevelyan speaking 69 
 
 She read of the murder of the Earl of Roakby . . . 107 
 
 She turned to him with a face full of childlike sim- 
 plicity 167 
 
 Before he knew it he had taken her in his arms . . 219 
 " It's true ! I swear every word is true ! " moaned the 
 girl 267 
 
 "Micky!" she gasped. "I thought you must be 
 dead!" 289 
 
 XI 
 
"C. Q."; 
 OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
C. 0. ; 
 
 OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 MICKY QUARRELS WITH THE CAPTAIN OF THE 
 " PAVONIA," AND BECOMES PALS WITH A LADY IN 
 HIGH SOCIETY. 
 
 THE chief trouble with " Micky " FItz, 
 as he was called, was that the women 
 all fell In love with him. And as he was 
 generally a totally unconscious factor In the 
 proceeding, he can hardly be held responsible, 
 although it can not be denied that he was 
 usually receptive and on occasion even pro- 
 vocative, for he was a sailor-man — of a sort 
 — and English, in spite of his name. 
 
 This, however, did not prevent his utter dis- 
 grace and prompt banishment from his uncle's 
 vicarage when he and the Hon. Evelyn Ara- 
 bella Farquhar were caught by the head gar- 
 dener kissing in the lilac arbor, and the matter 
 
 3 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 was reported to the irascible Earl, her grand- 
 papa. For the golden-haired, rose-cheeked 
 Hon. Evelyn was a great person in the land, 
 and the " Peerage " said that she was a lady 
 (with a capital L) of the Order of St. John of 
 Jerusalem, and that her father, the Viscount, 
 was a general in India; while Michael Fitz- 
 patrick was only a common or garden son of 
 a second son, with no pretensions to aristoc- 
 racy save through the elder branch of the 
 family, which paid no attention to his trifling 
 existence. 
 
 So the Earl, as was his prerogative, was 
 exceeding wroth, and, having sent for the 
 much-embarrassed vicar, made it entirely un- 
 equivocal that Michael was to be deported be- 
 yond seas, — to Prince Rupert or Pekin, or 
 Zanzibar, — where he could never more see 
 his dream lady until she was safely married to 
 a gentleman of at least her own rank and for- 
 tune. And the vicar, who, although he pos- 
 sessed the advowson of his own living, never- 
 theless feared the Earl and needed him in his 
 business, — and who, incidentally, did not be- 
 lieve in kissing, either, — had a brief but se- 
 rious talk with his scandalous nephew in the 
 
 4 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 vicarage library, from which they both emerged 
 very red. 
 
 Later in the afternoon the Hon. Evelyn, hav- 
 ing escaped from her governess (she was only 
 fifteen and three-quarters), met Micky, this 
 time in the grove bacic of the second game- 
 keeper's, and swore eternal fealty to him with 
 her head on his shoulder, and they exchanged 
 rings. 
 
 Ever since his father, the captain, had been 
 killed before Bloemfontein in the early gray of 
 an August morning by a whining Mauser bullet 
 sent by a bushy-bearded Boer from an almost 
 invisible kopje a mile away, and he had been 
 taken out of school and sent to live with his 
 uncle, his father's younger brother, at Top- 
 pingham, Micky had been in love with Evelyn 
 Farquhar. He liked all girls and most boys, 
 just as they liked him, and why Evelyn inspired 
 this particular ardor in his youthful heart he 
 could not have explained. Perhaps it was be- 
 cause this motherless boy (his mother had died 
 while bringing him into the world) had come to 
 Toppingham racked with grief at the loss of his 
 father and keenly sensitive to sympathy of any 
 kind, and had remained so for a long time. 
 
 5 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Of course she had been a mere child 
 then, but in those days the Earl had never 
 thought of objecting to his playing all day long 
 with the little lady whose inclinations toward 
 her old playmate now gave her grandfather 
 such anxiety. So Micky had lay lessons of the 
 curate — an explosive, tennis-playing, supercil- 
 ious young man — and on Sundays recited his 
 catechism and the collects to the vicar, who was 
 really interested only in geology and model 
 tenements, and the rest of the time — that is, 
 until he went to Harrow — he spent racing 
 over the lawns of Toppingham or paddling in 
 a punt on the muddy little " Avon " with the 
 little girl who, now that he was a grown man 
 and ready to go to Sandhurst maybe (if his 
 uncle approved), was father and mother and 
 sister and sweetheart to him, all in one. 
 
 For Micky did not like his uncle the vicar, 
 and neither did Evelyn, and both of them 
 imagined Micky as very much oppressed and 
 unfairly treated, and believed themselves to be 
 the victims of a conspiracy between this wicked 
 ecclesiastic (who was really a very harmless 
 person) and the Earl of Toppingham, whose 
 name was Richard de Coyne St. Gower Hugh 
 
 6 
 
"C. Q."j OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Fane-Crichton, and who was a Scottish peer 
 besides, and were at times very miserable and 
 very happy and really for their ages (which 
 are the very best ages for that purpose) pas- 
 sionately in love with each other. 
 
 So he left her in the sweet, shadowy fra- 
 grance of the early evening, standing among 
 the tree trunks with her arms outstretched to 
 him, a brave smile on her lips, trying to keep 
 back her tears,' — a slender, wistful figure in a 
 white frock that did not quite reach to the top 
 of her shoes, her hair in rippling golden torrents 
 blown toward him over her shoulders by a soft 
 caressing breeze that bore a quivering " Good- 
 by, Micky dear! " to his yearning ears. 
 
 Then, with a heart excitedly thumping and 
 pumping a strange and mysterious exuberance 
 all through his slender body, Micky packed a 
 hand-bag, and, without saying as much as good- 
 by to thS vicar, walked four miles to the station 
 and caught the 8.43 for Liverpool. For 
 though he was nineteen, he did not know what 
 was right and proper or to be expected of a 
 mere son of a second son. Incidentally he 
 carried in his left-hand breast pocket a cabinet 
 photograph of his Lady of the Order of St. 
 
 7 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 John of Jerusalem, showing her in long hair and 
 standing beside a big St. Bernard dog. 
 
 This was three years ago, and in all that time 
 he had heard from her only once, and that was 
 when she had mailed him a post-card from 
 Cortina d'Ampezzo six weeks after his de- 
 parture, showing a Tyrolese couple in dancing 
 costume and bearing the strange and unintelligi- 
 ble symbols (save to Micky), "I. L. Y." — 
 which are the initials of the most Important 
 sentence in all history. 
 
 Those three years on the sea had made a man 
 of him, but they had not changed his attitude 
 toward Lady Evelyn or the Earl ; and both the 
 photograph and the Tyrolese dancers occupied 
 a conspicuous position on the wall over his bunk 
 in the wireless house on the Pavonia. Yet dur- 
 ing that time there had been many candidates 
 for Lady Evelyn's position — lithe, smoky 
 Arab girls in Tangier, starchy pink-and-white 
 stewardesses, smart daughters of prosperous 
 resident officers, and many ladies of high de- 
 gree on the first-cabin passenger list. But he 
 had discouraged them all and kept his heart 
 true to the memory of the grove behind the 
 second gamekeeper's. 
 
 8 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " An infectious little red devil ! " Mrs. Hu- 
 bert Trevelyan called him — she of the white 
 pony-coat and the string of melting blue- 
 white pearls, who liked to joke with Micky on 
 the boat deck and visit him in the wireless 
 house, and whose full-blown, rosily radiant 
 beauty filled him with a vague uneasiness. Yet 
 it was not his looks, — he had freckles, blue 
 eyes, and auburn-red hair, — but his smile that 
 drew people to him, first and second cabin alike, 
 and made it quite impossible for even the 
 purple-nosed captain to be as harsh with him 
 as his escapades deserved — as, for example, 
 that night at Algiers when he had kept the ship 
 waiting an hour, with the tide on the ebb, while 
 he won £i6 at the little horses in the Casino. 
 And this particular captain was, at that, the 
 worst it had been his ill luck to serve under in 
 either the Pacific, the Atlantic, or the Indian 
 Ocean, since his first job on the old Fulda of 
 the Lloyds'. Now he earned £3 per month on 
 a 17,000-ton Cunarder, was rated as an assistant 
 purser and ranked the barber and Hooks, the 
 head second-cabin steward. 
 
 It had been quite natural for him to go into 
 the Marconi service, for he had always dabbled 
 
 9 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 in electricity and had worked an amateur 
 " wireless " between the roof of the vicarage 
 and that of the village tinsmith who was the 
 father of his childhood's companion, Tommy 
 Burcher. Tommy was the only one of his 
 friends with whom he still kept in constant com- 
 munication and from whom he learned the com- 
 ings and goings of the Hon, Evelyn: how she 
 now had her hair up and looked a ripper; how 
 the family had taken her up to London and 
 brought her out with a great party at Carlton 
 Terrace; how she had been presented at Court; 
 and how they had been filling the house with 
 old bucks and young bucks, and been having 
 party after party, until Tommy (who was not 
 invited) said it quite turned his stomach. But 
 never a word from the Hon. Evelyn, who, ac- 
 cording to the ill-spelled and worse-expressed 
 missives of the correspondent, was growing 
 more of a stunner daily. As each letter was 
 received and read in the privacy of the wireless 
 house, Micky would grind his teeth, swear at 
 the Earl and the vicar, and then smoke his pipe 
 furiously for about an hour — after which life 
 resumed its ordinary color. A letter had come 
 that very day, with the usual consequences. 
 
 lO 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Damn all the women! " he growled, still 
 smoking, as he saw Mrs. Hubert Trevelyan's 
 copious blonde coiffure bobbing up the ladder 
 that led to the little coop which served him as 
 office, bedroom, and parlor, and was situated on 
 top of the deck-house in the after part of the 
 Pavonia. Passengers were forbidden access to 
 it; but for Mrs. Trevelyan anything forbidden 
 was sweet — particularly the society of Micky 
 Fitz. And she had no sooner gained the top 
 of the deck-house, and begun adjusting the folds 
 of her white pony-coat and her trim sailor hat, 
 than a steward scurried up after her and 
 knocked on the door of the wireless house. 
 
 " Cap'n says report to him at once, and no 
 first-cabin passengers allowed aft the second- 
 cabin deck! " said he rudely. 
 
 " Curse the Captain! " snorted Micky. " I 
 suppose I '11 catch it good and hearty for givin' 
 out that bulletin this afternoon ! Good evening, 
 Mrs. Trevelyan. Sorry I can't receive you. 
 The Captain 's sent for me — most pressin' 
 and particular ! " 
 
 He smiled a soul-engaging, freckled smile. 
 
 " Oh, you naughty child ! " protested Mrs. 
 Trevelyan, shaking her finger at him. " Well, 
 
 II 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 I '11 wait for you ! Don't be long. I am quite 
 afraid to stay here all alone. What if a big 
 sailor should come up?" 
 
 " Just shake your finger at him ! " replied 
 Micky. 
 
 He left her standing gracefully in the wind, 
 the breeze tossing her hair from her white tem- 
 ples and outlining her shapely form under the 
 white coat that floated behind her like the robe 
 of the Wingless Victory. He hurried across 
 the second-cabin deck, where trim, pipe-smok- 
 ing valets were walking up and down with care- 
 fully got up ladies' maids, and where a husky, 
 swarthy-cheeked chauffeur was playing shuffle- 
 board with a little hunchback boy whose cheer- 
 ful yet wistful smile made him the pet and 
 comrade of the entire company. He climbed 
 the ladder to the main deck, and stepped 
 gingerly by the ranks of first-cabin passengers 
 — muffled figures "laid out," as it were, in 
 grotesque rows, their noses buried in books or 
 gazing in sorrowful meditation upon the long 
 rollers that swung past the ship eastward to- 
 ward Portugal. He dodged in and out be- 
 tween the pedestrians, who, in ill-assorled pairs, 
 blocked the deck and got in one another's way 
 
 12 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 ■ — lovers actual and prospective, husbands duti- 
 fully " exercising " their wives, old folks crawl- 
 ing around the ship and congesting the narrow 
 thoroughfare until those behind turned right 
 about face and retreated in the other direction 
 — everybody trying to stimulate appetites 
 stultified by Scotch breakfasts eaten berthwise 
 at late morning hours, and struggling against 
 that inexplicable tired feehng that accompanies 
 a long liner's slow pitch when running against 
 the sea. He ducked under the upraised arm of 
 the bugler, just beginning the first bar of 
 " Roast Beef of Old England," made a wry 
 face at him, and then, with supernatural 
 gravity, saluted the Captain. 
 
 " You young scamp ! " roared the officer. 
 " What do you mean by giving out the press 
 news and letting it be posted on the bulletin- 
 board? Don't you know this ship does n't sub- 
 scribe for it? Look at this thing! I tore It 
 down myself five minutes ago I " 
 
 He held out a crumpled sheet of ship's writ- 
 ing-paper, upon which appeared, in Mrs. 
 Hubert Trevelyan's obvious chirography, a 
 resume of the wireless news sent out from 
 Poldhu early that morning. The lady had been 
 
 13 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 flippant, and the sheet was headed: "The 
 Pavonia's Daily Scream." Underneath were 
 imitation newspaper columns entitled " Society 
 Jottings," " Marine News," " Birth List," and 
 other harmless pleasantries, but containing the 
 actual six hundred words taken by Micky out 
 of the air for which the company had not paid. 
 
 " If that is reported it will cost me exactly 
 twenty pounds! " shouted the Captain, glaring 
 at him. 
 
 " Very sorry, sir! " answered Micky respect- 
 fully. " I did n't post it, and I don't know who 
 did. I merely handed a copy to you, as usual, 
 at breakfast. Of course, if by any chance one 
 of the passengers saw your copy — I " 
 
 "You impudent young jackanapes!" re- 
 torted the Captain furiously. " My copy, in- 
 deed ! You gave it out to some woman — you 
 knom you did 1 What 's more, you let them 
 come up to the wireless house ! I 've seen 
 them myself. If I catch another living soul 
 there, I '11 have you discharged." 
 
 " Very good, sir," replied Micky stolidly. 
 " Of f ^urse, if you did n't give out the news 
 the Marconi Company can't charge the boat 
 for it; and if / gave it out, the company will 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 sack me. So far as the passengers coming up 
 is concerned, I wish you would devise some 
 way to keep 'em out. / can't. I 'm sure the 
 company would n't like it, and it Interferes 
 horribly with my work. Is that all, sir? And 
 shall I take the news for you to-night, sir? " 
 
 The Captain gave Micky one withering look 
 and brushed by him without reply. He had no 
 evidence as to how the news had leaked out, 
 and he was quite aware of it. In addition, he 
 had no business to get the news himself, if his 
 ship was not a subscriber. Of course they all 
 did get it. There it was in the air, and all you 
 had to do was to tune in and swipe it. The 
 company expected it, and you didn't deprive 
 anybody of anything by so doing. Even if you 
 had n't subscribed, it was n't to be expected that 
 men out of sight of land were going to be con- 
 scientious to the extent of avoiding knowing 
 whether London had been blown up or who had 
 won the Derby. The morning flimsy from the 
 wireless house was a sort.of daily courtesy from 
 the Marconi people to the Captain. If he 
 did n't want It — why, he could leavCTife, that 
 was all. 
 
 All this the purple Captain knew very well, 
 15 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 but he was angry and upset, for the home office 
 had held him over two days at Genoa to take 
 those of the Olympic's passengers, who after 
 her coUision with the Haivke had shrewdly fig- 
 ured out that the only way of making sure of 
 getting home was by the southern route, and 
 had had the Pavonia held by wire from London 
 in consequence. 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan had been one of these, and 
 for four days now she had sat at his right hand 
 and made love to him. The ship was jammed 
 to the bulwarks, with first-cabin passengers 
 sleeping in threes in second-class state-rooms, 
 and everybody was growling except the stew- 
 ards and stewardesses, who already heard the 
 clink of golden sovereigns on every hand. It 
 was a " stewardesses' trip," for the ladies- 
 maids could find no berths in the first-cabin 
 quarters and were ignominiously consigned to 
 the second cabin, where, with noses in air, they 
 sat at meals in undignified juxtaposition with 
 chauffeurs, Turks, professors, Mafiusi from 
 Palermo and Camorristi from Naples, rug 
 merchants from Beirut and Antioch, Mennonite 
 bishops, Baptist missionaries, and millionaire 
 lemon growers from Morocco, Oran, and the 
 
 i6 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 yellow-red confines of the northern desert. 
 It was a novelist's chance of a lifetime; but 
 these ladies did not know it, and spent their 
 time in indignant clusters, discussing their com- 
 panions and " 'ow 'orrid they smelled." 
 
 At Gibraltar another swarm of belated ones 
 had come aboard, and Billy Parish, the gambler 
 who regularly travels from Algiers to Gibraltar 
 and back again — "bridge only, you understand, 
 — at sixpence a point " — had made forty 
 pounds by pretending he had taken passage for 
 New York, and selling out to a Wall Street 
 stock broker " at the greatest possible incon- 
 venience to himself." But the really funny 
 thing was how that Olympic-Haivke business 
 had made all the captains so nervous — and 
 Ponsonby, the purple captain of the Pavonia, 
 was the worst of all. 
 
 As Fitzpatrick sauntered back to his post in 
 the wireless house, they were all filing in to 
 dinner, and the deck stewards were darting 
 around among the old ladies, with sloppy trays 
 of lukewarm bouillon and soggy sea-biscuit. 
 A condensed odor, thick to the eye as a London 
 fog, was working along the passageways, heavy 
 with the steam of the soup caldrons, the smell 
 
 17 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 of damp table-linen, of Castile soap, onions, 
 oxalic acid, and warm upholstery. The string 
 band was trying to be heard above the clatter 
 of dishes, valiantly sawing out, " Oh, You 
 Beautiful Doll," and the stewards were fighting 
 for places around the scullery windows, giving 
 each other the lie in polite cockney with " Oh, 
 I s'y, I 'm first there now, Denby ! " and " You 
 swine, you took my plyte ! Give it 'ere, now ! " 
 
 Inside the saloon, three hundred passengers 
 were beginning to gorge stomachs, which should 
 have been left entirely alone, with canned cavi- 
 are, Scotch broth, boiled cod, celery, radishes, 
 English mutton chops, — pheasant, sir, with the 
 'ead steward's compliments, — ^ Tipsy pudding, 
 Neapolitan ice-cream, assorted cakes, grapes, 
 bananas, and coffee, washed down with heavy 
 draughts of ApoUinaris water. The great 
 event of the day was in full progress. 
 
 Micky winked at the purser as he slid by the 
 latter's grating. 
 
 " No more news ! " he grinned. " Cap'n's 
 orders I " 
 
 " The deuce you say ! " muttered, the rat- 
 faced financier, and went on unconcernedly 
 counting up neat piles of half-crowns. 
 
 i8 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The second-cabin deck was clear, save for an 
 invalid Italian woman lying on a steamer-chair 
 in the shelter of a canvas windbreak. A 
 sailor was picking up the scattered rope circles 
 of a suddenly abandoned game of " ring-toss." 
 Micky ran up his ladder and opened the door of 
 his office. There were Mrs. Trevelyan and a 
 dark gentleman with waxed mustaches in a long 
 green ulster, calmly eating pheasant from his 
 operating-desk. A quart of champagne stood 
 in a bucket of ice on the floor beside them. 
 
 " Ah, there you are ! " cried the gay lady. 
 " Lord Ashurst, let me introduce to yoij my very 
 particular friend, Mr. Micky Fitzpatrick." 
 
 " Glad to know you I " nodded his lordship, 
 his mouth full of pheasant. " Awfully jolly 
 up here, you know. Quite rippin', in fact. 
 So beastly hot in that saloon, one can't eat." 
 
 " Sit down, do," said Mrs. Trevelyan. " I 
 know you want to put us out, but it wouldn't 
 be polite — would it, Ashurst?" 
 
 "Assuredly not!" he answered. "Have a 
 cigarette ? " 
 
 " No, thanks," replied Micky. " I 'm very 
 sorry, but I have to go down to lunch. By 
 the way, if anybody calls up, just send 'em a 
 
 19 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 few ' V's ' and take the message, will you ? " 
 
 " Impudence I " smiled Mrs. Trevelyan. 
 
 Soon she finished her pheasant, and, Micky 
 having vanished down the ladder, began to ex- 
 amine the contents of the office through her 
 gold lorgnette. 
 
 "That must be hi^ sweetheart!" she re- 
 marked suddenly, pointihg to the photograph 
 over the bunk -^" that leggy little girl with 
 the big dog." 
 
 Ashurst arose stiffly, carefully wiped his mus- 
 tache with his napkin, and inspected the pic- 
 ture. 
 
 " Well, I 'm shotl " he ejaculated, in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 "Why, may I ask?" inquired Mrs. 
 Trevelyan, " and why do you invariably say 
 you 're shot? " 
 
 Ashurst ignored the latter half of her ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " That 's Evelyn Farquhar I " he gasped. 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan burst into silvery-toned 
 giggles, while Ashurst gave her a sheepish 
 look. 
 
 " Rather rough on you, eh, boysie ? " she 
 laughed. 
 
 20 
 
Mrs. Trevelyan and a dark gentleman were calmly eating from 
 his operating-desk 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 His lordship poured out some champagne. 
 
 " Really, you know, that 's rather a 
 stunner I " he admitted. 
 
 " It is, if what everybody said was true," an- 
 swered his companion — " that she turned you 
 down hard at Biarritz last May. Anyhow, 
 she 's engaged to Cosmo Hamilton at last — 
 it was announced about a month ago. I won- 
 der where Micky got that picture." 
 
 ','1 — / never — asked her — really," he 
 protested. " Rum sort of a child, but an awful 
 ripper 1 " 
 
 " Never mind, old chap 1 " cooed Mrs. 
 Trevelyan soothingly. " You 've still got 
 me." 
 
 " Yes, until Trevelyan comes out in a tug off 
 Fire Island," he retorted dryly, wrinkling his 
 nose. 
 
 " Well, cheer up — and give me a 
 cigarette ! " she admonished him. " Let 's 
 have a good time while it lasts." 
 
 The deck-house, or " Island," of the Pavonia 
 is designated to accommodate second-class pas- 
 sengers, but the rooms are large and catch more 
 air than those in the main body of the ship, for 
 
 23 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 the port-holes look straight forward and 
 straight aft. As Micky dropped down his 
 ladder, he nearly landed on a tall man in a 
 shabby ulster, the collar of which was turned 
 up so as almost to hide the wearer's face. A 
 soft hat was drawn down to cover his eyes. 
 The man started and drew back into the 
 shadow. 
 
 " I beg your pardon 1 " exclaimed Micky, who 
 recalled the fact that this particular passenger 
 had come aboard with a few others at Gibral- 
 tar. 
 
 The man muttered something indistinctly. 
 
 "Coming down to lunch?" continued the 
 Marconi man politely. " You 're at my table, 
 you know — • the one on the right as you go 
 in." 
 
 " No, thanks; I 'm not feeling very fit," re- 
 plied the other, and, turning, he opened the 
 door of one of the second-class state-rooms and 
 disappeared inside. 
 
 Micky shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Affable ! " he remarked to himself. " But 
 rather a swell-looking beggar at that ! " 
 
 Then he descended to the second-cabin saloon 
 where he and his like belonged. 
 
 24 
 
II 
 
 MICKY STUMBLES UPON A PECULIAR PASSENGER AND 
 EXPLAINS THE MYSTERIES OF THE WIRELESS TO A 
 YOUNG LADY. 
 
 THE atmosphere of the second-cabin 
 saloon was somewhat clearer than that 
 of the first, and Micky's appetite was of the 
 best. 
 
 " Good afternoon, everybody ! " he cried 
 genially, as he slipped into his place at the head 
 of the table nearest the door. " Fetch me 
 some soup, Dobson." 
 
 An intermittent chorus in Italian, English, 
 and French greeted his arrival. There were 
 seven at the table, one chair being vacant. 
 
 " Goot vetter we're having 1" nodded a 
 German brewer from Hoboken. 
 
 " Fine ! " said Micky. " I was talking to the 
 Berlin this morning, two hundred miles to the 
 westward, and they said it was like a mill-pond. 
 And the Cedric — same distance ahead of her 
 — 'reports the same thing." 
 
 "I'm so glad!" answered a wan English 
 25 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 girl, traveling with her brother, who looked 
 consumptive, yet ate almost nothing. " I 'd 
 hate to be in a storm. Is n't it dreadful, Mr. 
 Fitzpatrick?" 
 
 " Sometimes," he admitted. " But we don't 
 get 'em this season — that Is, head storms. 
 You don't mind the others." 
 
 " I 'd mind anything I " she sighed. 
 
 " Pardon, mees," put in eagerly a sallow, 
 lean-faced Algerian with grayish-black hair cut 
 in a brush-like pompadour. " I haf been cross- 
 in' twenty years on thees ships, and dere ees 
 nuthin' to fear. Alors, why should you care? 
 It ees la mal de mer that ees bad. It ees the 
 worst thin' for 'uman bein's dere ees! It ees 
 awful. But, think, mees, you do not 'ave it — 
 no { 
 
 He smiled at her with a gentle smile, like 
 the soft desert wind among his own orange 
 groves. 
 
 " No, fortunately ! " she answered. 
 
 " Then, eef you 'ave it, come to me and I 
 will geef you a lemon ! " he continued parent- 
 ally. "These ship lemons! M on Dieuf They 
 are like nuts. You should see my lemons at 
 Sadi-bel- Abbas! Dere ees nuthin' like that 
 
 26 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 country. It ees fine — so warm in winter an' so 
 cool in summer ! " 
 
 " But I thought Algeria was hot I " protested 
 the girl. 
 
 " Algerie ? Chaud! Ah, non, made- 
 moiselle ! " he cried, his face hghting up. " It 
 ees like heaven. No hot weather like you have 
 in New York. Always nice." 
 
 " Say, Frenchie, what are you givin' us ? " in- 
 quired the broad-shouldered chauffeur of an 
 American railroad-owner. " Kinder hot in the 
 desert, ain't it?" 
 
 "Mais, we do not live in the desert, m'sieu," 
 answered the other courteously. " Our planta- 
 tions are in the mountains and the valleys. It 
 ees not too hot for 'uman bein's. Of course in 
 the desert 1 Que voulez vous? But even dere 
 the Legion Etrangere build the roads In the 
 sun. Those are the brave gargons, m'sieu ! 
 From all over the world they come — Espagne, 
 Suisse, Russie, Allemagne, et les Etats Unis 
 d'Amerique." 
 
 " The United States? " questioned the chauf- 
 feur. 
 
 " Certainement, m'sieu! " the Algerian as- 
 sured him. " They also work for nuthin' — 
 
 27 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 you understan'-— for nuthin', with a sou each 
 day for tobacco. They are the bravest men 
 dans tout le monde! For they care nuthin' 
 for their lives. They no more fear than the 
 Mohammedan. Kismet! No one can stand 
 against them. I have known in the ranks the 
 sons of American millionaires — c'est vrai! — 
 princes of Russie, noblemen of Oesterreich, and 
 priests that were but are no longer within the 
 Church — fugitives from justice from every 
 country in the world, men of broken heart, 
 chevaliers d'industrie — " He shrugged his 
 shoulders. " Rascals, you say, perhaps, but 
 gentilhommes d'honneur. Ah, the petites 
 histoires I have heard them tell around the 
 camp-fire and at the hospital of ' Les Isles 
 d'Hyeres '—the ' Golden Isles.' " 
 
 A shadow fell across the table, and he paused 
 in his recital as the empty chair was filled. The 
 man in the ulster had entered unobserved, and 
 now took his seat unobtrusively. Evidently 
 he had changed his mind about coming down to 
 lunch. It was his first appearance at table 
 during the voyage, but Micky knew that his 
 name was Cloud — since the chair was thus 
 assigned. It was obvious that he had over- 
 28 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 heard the Algerian's impassioned eulogy of his 
 country, for he now bowed in his direction with 
 a polite : 
 
 " Don't let me interrupt you." 
 
 The newcomer was dressed in faded but well- 
 cut clothes of Scotch mixture, and he had a 
 narrow, handsome, clean-cut English face, the 
 high cheekbones of which were surmounted by 
 bronzed temples and a forehead that ran well 
 back over the crown until It met the rather thin 
 but curly brown hair. Had It not been for the 
 stubby beard, the face was such as you might 
 have seen twenty times a day on the hunting 
 field at Market Harboro or Melton Mow- 
 bray. Every distinctive feature of the sport- 
 ing aristocrat was there' — the flat, small ears, 
 the ruddy skin, the clear blue eyes, the prom- 
 inent arched nose, the large, white, even teeth 
 — all but the chin, covered with that in- 
 congruous, grotesque beard. Such heads you 
 see the world over, from Manitoba to 
 Mombassa — sometimes even in the chorus of 
 a comic opera, wherever the " younger son " 
 is carving out his fate. But this man was not 
 altogether true to type, for the skin about his 
 eyes was dark and sunken, and he had the gaunt 
 
 29 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 look of one who has played and lost, the hope- 
 less expression of the man who has nothing left. 
 
 "Decided to come down, after all?" re- 
 marked Micky, with good humor. 
 
 " Yes," returned the other in a slightly nerv- 
 ous manner. And the conversation lagged. 
 
 The stewards began clearing away, and the 
 second-cabin passengers gathered in groups or 
 sauntered out on deck. The wan girl and her 
 brother, however, seemed to have made no 
 friends, and lingered on. The girl was by no 
 means bad looking, as Micky took pains to ob- 
 serve. Neither was the brother, although he 
 had the pasty look of one who has lived his life 
 inside closed doors, and the stoop that is apt to 
 go with it — a clerk, Micky guessed, taking a 
 sea voyage for his health. 
 
 Micky's attention had been attracted to the 
 pair early in the voyage for several reasons. 
 In the first place, they, like Cloud, had come 
 aboard at Gibraltar — a rather curious place 
 to take a steamer for America in the month of 
 September. Spain was pretty hot — infernally 
 hot after the middle of June. Then, while the 
 girl seemed like a chatty sort of person and was 
 always ready to talk to her companions at the 
 
 30 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 table, neither she nor her brother had by so 
 much as a single word indicated whence they 
 had come, what their purpose in life was, or 
 where they were going. Micky had a vague 
 suspicion that the girl showed an unusual 
 dexterity in avoiding anything like an approach 
 to personalities^ — but he confessed that he 
 might have been mistaken. Lastly, with all 
 the readiness of the two to make themselves 
 agreeable in the saloon, they never talked to 
 any one outside on deck, or joined in any of 
 the games that were played. In fact, the 
 brother had remained almost constantly in his 
 state-room, while the girl sat by herself, read- 
 ing or watching the gulls. He had a sensitive, 
 rather cadaverous face, and, like the man Cloud, 
 sported a half-grown, bristly beard. They 
 were English, of course, but they piqued 
 Micky's curiosity, and he determined to break 
 down the barrier of reserve with which they 
 had surrounded themselves. 
 
 On the second-cabin list they were put down 
 as " Mr. William H. Bennett, Miss Bennett," 
 and as such he now addressed her. 
 
 " Find it rather dull on board. Miss Ben- 
 nett?" 
 
 31 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Oh, no-o," she answered. " But we are 
 not very quick at picking up acquaintances; 
 and my brother has felt rather miserable until 
 now." 
 
 " Like to take a look at the wireless house ? " 
 he asked, conscious, nevertheless, that the Cap- 
 tain might have meant what he said. 
 
 " Oh, could we ! I thought it was n't per- 
 mitted." 
 
 " / 'II permit you," he reassured her. 
 " Come along up." 
 
 Outside, the breeze had flattened and a film 
 of gray had come over the sun. Aft, a great 
 flock of gulls were racing the ship, now swoop- 
 ing down after some morsel thrown from the 
 sculleries, again poised motionless aloft, but 
 still keeping even with the stem. The great 
 blue rollers went seething by without really 
 breaking, save where, here and there, a single 
 whitecap showed what the wind had been. 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan and her companion had 
 wearied of their rendezvous and were no longer 
 to be seen. Bridge had succeeded a flirtation 
 which for these two was no longer profitable 
 or a necessity. But the fumes of his lordship's 
 cigarette still lingered in the air, and Micky 
 32 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 threw open the window and motioned his 
 guests to take seats on the bunk. The man 
 was obviously exhausted by his climb up the 
 ladder, but the girl was all interest. The 
 windows looking in every direction showed not 
 a single sail or streak of black smoke on all the 
 limitless horizon. 
 
 " You 'd think we were all alone, would n't 
 you ? " said Micky, filling his pipe. 
 
 " Yes — are n't we? " she replied innocently. 
 
 "Not one bit of it!" he answered. 
 " We 're in the middle of a regular drove of 
 ships." He nodded westward. " Right over 
 there are the Berlin and Cedric, and beyond 
 them the Fulda and the Frederick II. Be- 
 hind us are the Oregon and the Hohenlohe. 
 About three hundred miles south of us is 
 the Argentina, bound for Buenos Ayres, and the 
 Karib for Colon. Just north is a big yacht, the 
 Nerada, and the Frankfort, going eastward. 
 I 've been talking to all of them. I know most 
 of the operators, too. The chap on the Berlin 
 is named Morrissy. We had an evening to- 
 gether at Algiers about a week ago. He owes 
 me a shilling sixpence." 
 
 The girl listened, wide-eyed. 
 33 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " And you Ve been talking to all of them I 
 It 's too wonderful. How do you do it? " 
 
 Micky laughed lazily. 
 
 " It 's no trick at all ! " He threw over his 
 rheostat and wound up his magnetic detector. 
 The converter gave a great roaring whir, and 
 he threw it off again; but he put the receivers 
 to his ears and listened. 
 
 " All at lunch," he commented after a 
 minute. " Anyhow, nobody 's working. You 
 see, there 's very little doing except at night. 
 The air 's much more quiet then as a rule, and 
 there 's no one to bother you. Of course, I 
 only get relay messages out here, because we 're 
 out of commercial range of The Ushant and 
 Poldhu, and nobody sends anything from 
 Tangier — at least, / never had a message for 
 a passenger from there." ' 
 
 " But I don't understand," she hesitated. 
 " What happened when the machine made that 
 great noise ? " 
 
 " It was generating the current for my 
 aerials," he replied. " You 've noticed those 
 wires hanging down, something like a ham- 
 mock, from the mast, of course? Well," — 
 he threw on his converter, — " now she 's 
 
 34 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 generating a current that Is thrown off in waves 
 whenever I close the circuit." 
 
 The instrument was whirring like an aero- 
 plane about to fly, and, when Micky pressed 
 his key, crackled with a blue flame that made 
 the girl jump. 
 
 "That's nothing," he grinned; "I'm just 
 sending out a few ' CQ's ' — that 's the call for 
 ' all stations,' you know — to let the other fel- 
 lows know I 'm alive. Hello I There 's Mor- 
 rissy already. He wants some ' V's ' — letters, 
 so he can tune in." Bz — bz — bz. " Now 
 I 'm giving him ' HS ' — ' How are my sig- 
 nals ? ' — ^' Signals good and strong,' he says. 
 You see, he 's tuned into my wave-length 
 already by varying the capacity of his con- 
 denser and inductance. You have to send out 
 the ' V's ' anyhow to test your spark." 
 
 Micky was working his key rapidly, and now 
 broke into a laugh. 
 
 " I asked him if he had forgotten about that 
 shilling sixpence, and he said if I 'd run over 
 he 'd give it to me." 
 
 "How far off is he?" she asked wonder- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Only about two hundred and fifty miles." 
 3 35 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Two hundred and fifty miles ! " 
 
 " That 's about all you can do commercially 
 by day, and it varies, at that, with the atmos- 
 phere. Every thunder-storm kicks up a bloom- 
 in' row. The least thing makes a difference, 
 you know — heat of the air, cool of the night, 
 latitude, hills (if you 're talking to a land 
 station), any electrical disturbance ('atmos- 
 pherics,' we call them) — storms in the ether 
 you can't see and only guess at. Three hun- 
 dred miles by day is the very outside. But at 
 night we get ' freak ' working. I can send 
 sometimes twelve hundred miles and receive 
 two thousand miles. That 's a bally long way. 
 But, with the air nice and cool, I can take 
 Poldhu every night — and it 's well over a 
 thousand." 
 
 " It 's the most wonderful thing I 've ever 
 known ! " she gasped. 
 
 " Yes — yes ! " repeated the brother huskily, 
 with an assumption of interest. " It is wonder- 
 ful." He coughed painfully a couple of times. 
 
 " Do you get the news from land that way? " 
 she continued. 
 
 "Every night — regular as the clock," an- 
 swered Micky. " Why, I heard all about the 
 
 36 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Olympic-Hawke collision from The Ushatit 
 right through the Pyrenees, and I was lying in 
 the bay of Algiers in a perfect nest of stations. 
 There were fifty vessels all talking at once, — 
 a terrible jam, — but I got every word. Now 
 the regular press business comes every night 
 through Poldhu i — in Cornwall, you know. 
 About a quarter past eleven you start your 
 detector and begin listening. The detector is 
 an endless iron band passing through a small 
 coil of copper wire. It catches everything — 
 any kind of an electric wave — any length. 
 You tune into the other fellow's wave by slid- 
 ing these vulcanized rubber handles backward 
 and forward. Well — now you 're ready. 
 Then at eleven-thirty sharp (Greenwich 
 time) Poldhu begins working ' CQ — CQ — 
 CQ — ZZ — ZZ — ZZ.' That means, 'AH 
 stations — Poldhu talking.' Then he begins 
 to send his commercial messages and signal for 
 the ships he wants. Every ship has a letter. 
 If he wants the Caronia he sends out MRA. 
 — MRA — until he picks her up, or if he's 
 after the George JVashington he sends out 
 DKN. After he gets through his com- 
 mercials he begins to distribute the news to 
 
 37 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 our sxibscribers. ' SP — SP — SP ' he says 
 (' Press for transmission only '), and gives the 
 number of words. It 's usually about six hun- 
 dred. Then he goes ahead and tells how the 
 market Is, and who 's dead, and who won the 
 prize fight — and when he 's finished he goes 
 back and says It all over again. Why, I sit 
 here every night and it 's just as if I was on 
 Picadilly Circus except for the lights. Often 
 there 's just as much noise." 
 
 " So everything that goes on in the world is 
 known on the sea I " said the girl lightly. 
 
 " Everything of importance," he answered. 
 
 " And you 're always in touch — never any 
 more terrible uncertainty " — she hesitated for 
 the smallest fraction of a second — " about — 
 anything ! " 
 
 " None. Even If you are n't In touch with a 
 land station, you 're always in communication 
 with a whole bevy of ships, and they give you 
 all the dope — the news. Why, sometimes, up 
 here, it 's like an afternoon tea except for the 
 women, and " — he laughed — " sometimes I 
 have them too." 
 
 " But, of course, there are many things that 
 happen which are not worth reporting, like that, 
 
 38 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 every night at such great expense — little 
 things — that affect only a few people ? " she 
 asked, almost anxiously. 
 
 " Of course. It 's just like a newspaper of 
 six hundred to one thousand words. They 
 send out what is vital, and some of it is deuced 
 urgent. You remember when Crippen was 
 caught getting over to Canada? It was all 
 wireless. Why, that murderer would have 
 beaten it if it hadn 't been for the Captain 
 snooping around and playing Sherlock Holmes 
 among the passengers until he found a fellow 
 that matched up to the description that had 
 jumped through the air and overtaken him. 
 Oh, it 's quite exciting up here sometimes. 
 Imagine me getting an SOS ! You 're talking 
 to some rosy ass on another liner about how 
 their butter is holding out, or if they 've seen 
 an Iceberg, and suddenly — bing — out of no- 
 where you '11 catch a little SOS. You listen, 
 and sure enough It Is ! You drop the ass and 
 the iceberg, and tune in quick, and you find it 's 
 a yacht that 's punctured herself on a reef, God 
 knows how far off! And then the air gets 
 full of ships simply yelling. You can hear 'em 
 all, from the Bay of Biscay to the Azores, from 
 
 39 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Tangier to Madeira, and the ones that have 
 the same wave-length fall all over each other. 
 Of course, you can cut out the others. It 's a 
 terrible mess! And then you find out where 
 she is, and the nearest ship simply goes and 
 looks after -her, that 's all. It 's — hello ! 
 There 's somebody working now. He 's send- 
 ing out a CQ." 
 
 Micky switched on his mains, and the blue 
 flame leaped through the air as he answered. 
 
 " Signals are strong. I should say he must 
 be close to us. Just look out the window, and 
 see if there 's anybody in sight. Miss Ben- 
 nett. . . . He says he 's the Donald Castle 
 from Liverpool to Buenos Ayres, and in plain 
 view of us." 
 
 The girl looked all over the horizon. 
 
 " There 's nothing except a sailing-vessel 
 over there to the right," she said. " They 
 don't carry wireless, do they?" 
 
 Micky craned his neck and glanced through 
 the starboard window. 
 
 " That 's just some old tub," he remarked. 
 
 " It can't be Aer. Queer, is n't it? It 's like a 
 
 man holding out his hand in the dark. You 
 
 know he 's there, but you can't touch him. 
 
 40 
 
" C. Q.," OR IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Now, this chap. He 's shirty because we don't 
 see him." 
 
 He pushed his key swiftly. 
 
 " Now, I 've just said, * Keep your hair on 
 and tell me what sort of a bloomin' vessel you 
 are.' . . . Oh, my ! He 's like a hornet ! 
 Says I must be chaffing him I . . . Oh, I 
 say ! The beggar 's too familiar ! . . . He 
 is that cruiser over there. Must have rigged 
 a wireless for himself. Lots of 'em do. I '11 
 fix him ! " 
 
 He pressed his key a few times, grinned de- 
 lightedly, and threw down his receiver. 
 
 " What did you say? " asked Bennett. 
 
 " I just said, ' Oh, are you that old hay 
 wagon on our starboard quarter? ' " 
 
 The girl laughed again. 
 
 " It 's really quite sociable ! " said she, as 
 they rose to go. " Will you let us come up 
 again? " 
 
 " Come any time you want," answered 
 Micky, good-naturedly. " You '11 always find 
 me here, and you '11 always be welcome." 
 
 41 
 
Ill 
 
 THE READER LEARNS SOMETHING OF THE CAREER OF 
 AN INTERNATIONAL BEAUTY, AND ATTENDS VICA- 
 RIOUSLY AN ARTISTIC ENTERTAINMENT IN THE 
 SECOND-CABIN SALOON. 
 
 WHATEVER may have been her faults, 
 it is not to be denied that only Mrs. 
 Trevelyan prevented another and more serious 
 explosion of wrath on the part of the Captain 
 against his ne'er-do-weel Marconi operator. 
 As a peacemaker she was beyond criticism. 
 The Captain, pretending to be quite impervious 
 to feminine charms, nevertheless allowed him- 
 self to be cajoled and flattered until he not only 
 revoked his orders so far as visitors to the 
 wireless house were concerned, but offered to ac- 
 company the lady there himself and explain 
 everything to her. For the Captain, in spite 
 of his appearance, was human, and, as he him- 
 self said aloud to himself in front of the look- 
 ing-glass in his cabin: "She's a damned 
 handsome woman 1 " 
 
 42 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 No one could possibly dodge this obvious 
 fact. Lily Trevelyan was one of those inter- 
 national beauties who, like the Countess of 
 Warwick, appear on the front pages of the 
 morning dailies whenever there is a dearth of 
 legitimate news. Born in a manufacturing 
 town in eastern Massachusetts, she had es- 
 caped from it at an early age, and, with an- 
 other girl, had taken up the study of art in 
 Paris. Then for about five years she utterly 
 disappeared, only to blossom forth suddenly in 
 London as a dashing society favorite, a bit 
 flamboyant for some of the more conservative, 
 but one who patently had attracted the dis- 
 criminating eye of royalty. From that time on, 
 Lily Leslie had been the rage. Dukes named 
 horses after her and their jockeys wore her col- 
 ors ; her photographs appeared in the shop win- 
 dows; cigars were branded and banded in her 
 honor; and she was followed from one Euro- 
 pean watering-place to another by a kitchen cab- 
 inet of Austrian, French, and English aristo- 
 crats and millionaires. 
 
 All this but six years after her departure 
 from Nesmith Street, Lowell! Yet, such 
 things happen more often than is suspected. 
 
 43 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Lowell has produced more than one English 
 beauty, and so has Fall River! God bless 
 them I And " lovely Lily Leslie from Low- 
 ell," having boxed the ears of a prince and 
 rolled him down a grass terrace at Sandring- 
 ham, eventually accepted the hand of a com- 
 plaisant commoner who was ready to sacrifice 
 his domestic security to a vicarious social 
 prominence. Now she was Mrs. Hubert 
 Trevelyan — still of the inner circles, but 
 without the flare that had made her the toast 
 of English hunting-lodges. The white neck 
 was still round, but almost imperceptibly it 
 flowered at the top toward a chin once the 
 ecstasy of sculptors, which now had lost by a 
 dim shade its clearness of outline. 
 
 She was still spoken of as one of the most 
 beautiful women in the world; but the exquisite 
 hour of her perfection had passed. Then, per- 
 haps feeling that her supremacy was no longer 
 undisputed, a sense of pique at younger and 
 fresher women had led her into certain too fla- 
 grant indiscretions that could not be over- 
 looked. Lord KnoUys had intimated that a 
 knighthood might please her husband; and the 
 directorate of the Royal Bank of Edinburgh, 
 44 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 of which he was the London manager, by a co- 
 incidence no less extraordinary than it was 
 timely, had proposed that he should open a 
 similar branch in New York and temporarily 
 become its resident agent. In other words, 
 royalty had politely indicated that, although it 
 was deeply pained to do so, it must, for policy's 
 sake, at least, withdraw that intimacy which it 
 had previously been pleased to extendi 
 
 The slight did her moral character small 
 good. She and her husband left England for 
 New York, and at once a dozen other Ameri- 
 can beauties struggled furiously for her vacant 
 place — beauties from Pittsburgh, from San 
 Francisco, from Albany, and — be it whispered 
 — from Brooklyn. Many a flower in the gar- 
 den of English society has had its root in some 
 vulgar suburb of an American city. Indeed, 
 usually the more vulgar the better, for it is the 
 note of surprise, of unconventionality, of aban- 
 don, of irresponsibility and naivete, which 
 gives the American girl her vogue in London. 
 
 However, Mrs. Trevelyan's dethronement in 
 England was no obstacle to her social career in 
 New York, and she cleverly made use of 
 the notoriety surrounding her English life to 
 
 45 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 give herself that last touch of smartness, that 
 slight atmosphere of the risque, that tres chic 
 suggestion of impropriety, that made her the 
 success of the season the winter of her arrival. 
 Into a society composed of men and women of 
 puritanical traditions, or, what is worse, the 
 traditional respectability of the honest mer- 
 chant princes of the red-plush and brown-stone 
 era in New York, whose pose is that of careless 
 immorality and whose conversation often reeks 
 of the road-house, but beneath whose war-paint 
 and feathers are concealed characters as stodgy 
 as that of a Methodist Sunday-school teacher 
 or as devoid of temperament as a Baptist mis- 
 sionary — into, in short, a society of " bogus 
 badness " and affected worldlijj^ss, Mrs. 
 Trevelyan blew like a cool breeze off the moun- 
 tains of actuality upon the parched plain of 
 imitation. Here, they felt, was the real thing, 
 and their sordid souls thrilled with excitement 
 at the thought. Women gained vicarious 
 smartness from being seen with her. Little 
 bores, whose greatest peccadillo was to drink 
 two cocktails instead of one before dinner, 
 swelled with worldly pride as they swarmed 
 around her. She was a sensation, an education, 
 46 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 worthier far than the hypocrites about her, 
 because she at least was genuine. Her house 
 became the center of the smart Bohemian circle, 
 the Newport and Westbury crowds, and the 
 stragglers of London and Parisian society, 
 of whom there are always a few in New York, 
 eagerly gobbled up to lend a cosmopolitan 
 touch to social gatherings otherwise banal 
 by reason of the absence of aristocratic titles. 
 Her husband passed unnoticed. "Is there a 
 Mr. Trevelyan? " it was quite the thing to say, 
 with a half-knowing, half-ingenuous expression. 
 Indeed, as a topic of conversation for " soci- 
 ety " women, who otherwise would have con- 
 versed of servants or children, she was inex- 
 haustible. For this reason. If for none 
 other, her transplantation was more than justifi- 
 able. 
 
 But the lure of the scenes of her earlier tri- 
 umphs came ever upon her, and each summer 
 saw her for a few weeks In London and a 
 month or two at Carlsbad or Biarritz. Tre- 
 velyan no longer went with her. She came and 
 went as she chose, and with whom she chose — 
 a mocking, tragic figure of what might have 
 been. 
 
 47 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Bah ! " she cried that evening, throwing 
 down her cards at the table in the men's smok- 
 ing-room, where she had made it fashionable 
 for the women to gather after dinner. " It 's 
 stuffy as a zoo in here. Can't you have some 
 more port-holes opened, Ashurst?" 
 
 " They are all wide open now; so is the venti- 
 lator," he answered. "What do you say — 
 shall we chuck it? " 
 
 Their two opponents, a young Boston bride 
 and her husband who belonged to the " hunting 
 set " at Myopia and were regarded at home as 
 ultra-exclusive, hastened to signify their assent, 
 and the table broke up. 
 
 " My maid tells me there is a vaudeville 
 show in the second cabin. What do you say — 
 shall we take it in? " inquired the bride. She 
 spoke languidly, lighting a thin Russian cigar- 
 ette which she took from a dainty dangling case 
 of gold, while the eyes of forty male passengers 
 watched her eagerly. 
 
 "Let's," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "I think 
 we ought to be able to bribe the second-cabin 
 steward to pass us into the menagerie. Any- 
 how, we can stand at the door." 
 
 The quartet sauntered along the deck and 
 48 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 descended cautiously Into the region conse- 
 crated to the second class. Ashurst peeked 
 through an open port, while Mrs. Trevelyan 
 glanced Into the saloon through another close 
 by. From within came the strum of a banjo 
 and the lilt of rag-time. 
 
 "Ah'Ilendyo'mahat! 
 Ah '1 lend yo' ma flat ! 
 Ah '1 lend yo' ma lovely overcoat of fur ! 
 Ah '1 lend yo' eberyting Ah 've got — exceptin' 
 
 ma wife ! 
 An Ah '1 mak' yo' a present of her! " 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan's eyes swept along the mot- 
 ley rows of maids, valets, and their heteroge- 
 neous companions, all eagerly drinking In the 
 piquant sentiment of the lyric, until catching a 
 profile at the end of one of them, an expression 
 of hopeless bewilderment slowly gathered upon 
 her face. Cloud was sitting a little apart, his 
 chin on his hand, a forced smile about his lips. 
 
 " It can't be ! " muttered Mrs. Trevelyan al- 
 most hysterically. 
 
 At the same Instant the song ended, and a 
 tumultuous round of hand-clapping and laugh- 
 ter showed that the audience was anything but 
 unappreclative and that wives and matrimony 
 
 49 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 were momentarily at a discount. Then the 
 high-pitched masculine voice of the master of 
 ceremonies — a cork merchant from Flatbush 
 — began : 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen: It gives me great 
 pleasure to announce that our friend, that dis- 
 tinguished American statesman Colonel W. C. 
 Spothal, of Bloomington, Illinois, will give us a 
 few personal reminiscences of him who cast the 
 shackles from the slave and preserved the 
 Union from dissolution amid the throes of in- 
 ternecine warfare — President Abraham Lin- 
 coln, or, as we of the States love to call him, 
 ' Old Abe.' " 
 
 "What is internecine warfare ?" giggled 
 Ashurst. 
 
 " Now I " exclaimed Mrs. Trevelyan, with 
 sudden animation. " Just slip in the door." 
 
 In the flurry caused by the rising and coming 
 forward of the distinguished statesman, the 
 party managed to force their way into the sa- 
 loon almost unobserved. 
 
 " Rather interesting," carelessly remarked 
 the horsey bride. 
 
 " Aw — lots of atmosphere, you know," ven- 
 tured Ashurst, 
 
 50 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Lots I " retorted Mrs. Trevelyan in a stage 
 whisper. "More than I want!" 
 
 The statesman had now reached the plat- 
 form amid mild applause, and, thrusting his 
 onyx-buttoned cuff into his low-cut waistcoat, 
 entered upon a sonorous, somewhat perspiring, 
 and detailed history of his intimacy with 
 the martyred President. The anecdotes were 
 chiefly about himself with sporadic references to 
 Lincoln. Still, the audience listened good-na- 
 turedly. 
 
 " And now I '11 tell yer," he declared im- 
 pressively, " 'bout some Noo York fine-an-seers 
 that come down to Washin'ton ter ask Ole Abe 
 to release the gold in the treasury durin' the 
 gold panic. He listened patiently to 'em, and 
 then he says : ' Gents ! You remind m.e o' the 
 farmers out in Illinois when I wuz a young fel- 
 ler. There wuz a hog plague out thar, an' the 
 hogs wuz a-dyin' like flies. Finally a man 
 come along and claimed he had discovered a 
 cure — an' he had. He said, ' Cut off their 
 tails and they '11 get well.' So the farmers cut 
 off their hogs' tails and the hogs all got well. 
 But the next year the plague come ag'in — and 
 thar weren't no more tails!" 
 
 4 51 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 There was a momentary silence, and then a 
 roar of merriment, while the statesman bowed 
 himself from the platform. Chauffeurs slapped 
 fat thighs and the stewards crowded in the 
 doorways stamped vigorously. Ashurst and 
 the hunting gentleman from Boston stared va- 
 cantly before them. But Mrs. Trevelyan 
 laughed heartily and threw a nod to Micky, 
 whose smiling face appeared for a moment at 
 the doorway. 
 
 "Edifying!" remarked the bride, with a 
 deprecating shrug and a faint condescending 
 smile. 
 
 " Our fellow passenger, Mr. Walter Ander- 
 son Savage, has kindly consented to sing 
 ' Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep,' " next an- 
 nounced the cork merchant. 
 
 A sad-faced, black-bearded man in heavy 
 boots and badly fitting clothes made his way 
 forward. A glance sufficed to show that he 
 was one of those unfortmiate persons who re- 
 gard it as a sacred duty to give pleasure to 
 others by a display of their vocal accomplish- 
 ments. With his eyes fixed on the ceiling and 
 his hands folded on his abdomen, Mr. Savage 
 
 52 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 in a thin bass began to sing, accompanied by 
 a young lady in a vermilion demi-toilette : 
 
 " Rocked in the cray-dul of ther deep, 
 I lay me down in peace to sleep! 
 And calm and peaceful is my sleep, 
 Rocked in the cray-dul of ther deep." 
 
 A slight tittering made itself heard in the 
 corners of the saloon ; but the vocalist remained 
 stolidly gazing at the ceiling during the inter- 
 lude, rendered with many quavers by the ver- 
 milion pianist. Ashurst had turned very red 
 and was shaking violently. Even the Boston 
 bride was biting her lips, while her husband 
 delicately covered his narrow face with his 
 hand. Mournfully Mr. Savage began again. 
 
 " And such the trust that still were mine 
 Though stormy winds sweep o'er the brine, 
 Or through the tempest's fiery breath. 
 Rouse me from sleep to wreck and death. 
 And calm and peaceful is my sleep. 
 Rocked in the cray-dul of ther deep!" 
 
 But Mrs. Trevelyan was neither listening to 
 the song nor watching the singer. From where 
 
 53 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 she had carefully selected her seat, she com- 
 manded a full view of Cloud's face, and during 
 the five verses rendered by the gloomy vocalist 
 she continued to scrutinize it intently. 
 
 " It can't be I And yet it is! " she repeated 
 blankly. " What on earth can he be doing 
 here?" 
 
 Suddenly Ashurst gave a muffled explosion 
 and stumbled out of the door, followed by the 
 bride and her husband, and presently, after 
 another last look at the second-class passenger, 
 by Mrs. Trevelyan. 
 
 " Rahly! " Ashurst was exclaiming, in a con- 
 vulsion of mirth. " Did you ever, now ! 
 Rahly ! A man like that ! " 
 
 " It was funny, was n't it, Mrs. Trevel- 
 yan?" laughed the bride apologetically, as the 
 latter joined the others outside in the moon- 
 light. 
 
 "Rahly! Rahly! Rahly! Ashurst! Why do 
 you make such an idiot of yourself?" snapped 
 Mrs. Trevelyan. " I 'm going to bed. Good 
 night, everybody I " 
 
 And she turned and moved quickly along the 
 passageway leading to the main saloon. The 
 rat-faced purser, a susceptible young English- 
 
 54 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 man, was just finishing up his accounts. Mrs. 
 Trevelyan cast a dazzling smile upon him, and 
 he, behind his grating, felt instantly like an 
 eagle imprisoned in a cage with his mate soar- 
 ing in the blue vault above. 
 
 " Let me see the second-cabin list, if you 
 please," she said in her sweetest tones. 
 
 " Certainly," he smiled back at her, " the 
 ship is yours if you want it, Mrs. Trevelyan." 
 
 55 
 
IV 
 
 " CQ CQ CQ !" IN WHICH MICKY LEARNS OF 
 
 THE MURDER OF THE EARL OF ROAKBY AT PARSLEY 
 CROFT. 
 
 MICKY, having attended several hundred 
 ships' " entertainments " during his 
 maritime career, had retired early to the wire- 
 less house, where, after a glance into the second 
 cabin in time to hear Mr. Savage's dismal con- 
 tribution, he had remained. There were a 
 score or so of messages to be relayed on to 
 New York, and he had a letter to write be- 
 sides; so by ten o'clock his pipe was alight 
 and his mains had been switched on. Then his 
 detector had got out of order, and it had taken 
 him nearly an hour to fix it, and when he at last 
 got working he found that Morrissy over on 
 the Berlin was frantic with the delay. 
 
 " Hardly time to give messages," he 
 growled. " What 's the matter? " 
 
 " Mind own business ! " Micky retorted an- 
 grily. Then the German behind began signal- 
 ing for the Pavonia. 
 
 56 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " You cut out, Morrissy. I 'm going to take 
 the Dutchman," he jerked with his key. 
 
 "CQ de DKV — CQ de DKV." persisted 
 the Norddeutscher Lloyd three hundred miles 
 eastward. 
 
 "DKV de MPA — HS," replied Micky. 
 ("To the Hohenlohe from the Pavonia: — 
 How are my signals? ") 
 
 " MPA de DKV," answered the operator on 
 the Hohenlohe. " Good evening, Mister." 
 (The German boats always say "Mister"). 
 "Your signals are strong. MSG " ("Com- 
 mercial message.") " Time now 11.55 Green- 
 wich. Four messages.") ■ 
 
 But Morrissy was still vainly trying to break 
 in. Micky threw him a formal " service mes- 
 sage " — a deadly insult to a friend, under the 
 circumstances. 
 
 "DKB de MPA — SG. Stand by. If 
 you do not stop jamming I will report you." 
 
 Then he turned again to the German. 
 
 "Time O. K. Thanks. GA." ("Go 
 ahead.") 
 
 " MSG. Number one," returned the other 
 operator, Morrissy having been reduced to 
 silence. " Ten words. Hohenlohe. Radio. 
 
 57 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Via Casablanca. Trevelyan, Pavonia: Gov- 
 ernment inspectors here wise to your neck- 
 lace. H." 
 
 Micky whistled under his breath, but he had 
 no time for disconcerting speculations. The 
 German kept right on sending: 
 
 " MSG. Number tvo. Hohenlohe. Radio. 
 Via Casablanca. Smith, Pavonia: Brother 
 John died this morning. Return first boat. 
 Alfred. 
 
 " MSG. Number three. Hohenlohe. Radio. 
 Via Casablanca. Tavish, Pavonia: Consols 
 up three quarters shall I sell. Pratt. 
 
 " MSG. Number four. Hohenlohe. Radio. 
 Relayed Basaltic — Umberto Primo — via 
 Tangier. Perier, Pavonia: La situation poli- 
 tique tres grave. S." 
 
 " O. K. Thanks. GN. Good night," re- 
 plied Micky. 
 
 " Thanks, Mister. Good night," answered 
 the German. And there was silence upon the 
 face of the waters. 
 
 Micky lit his pipe and gazed out of the win- 
 dow. 
 
 " So Mrs. Trevelyan was up to a little smug- 
 58 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 gling in spite of her wealth and position ! " He 
 laughed softly to himself. Then he turned to 
 the Berlin. 
 
 " Now, smarty," he signaled to Morrissy. 
 " Give us your message, and next time keep a 
 civil tongue in your head." 
 
 At quarter past eleven he stuck his head out 
 of the door for a breath of fresh air. The 
 " entertainment " and its aftermath were over. 
 The starched maids who strolled deckwise of 
 an evening had long since tumbled into their 
 bunks to snore like ladies until such hour as 
 they chose luxuriously to arise. Only a sailor 
 or two could be seen. He darted down the lad- 
 der and into the second-cabin scullery, snatched 
 up a couple of beef sandwiches, and clambered 
 up to his perch again. The Pavonia was surg- 
 ing along at twenty knots an hour, but in the 
 soft night she seerjied to be lying motionless in 
 a hazy sea of gold. 
 
 He cast a look at the Hon. Evelyn's picture, 
 tested his detector, adjusted the receiver, and 
 began munching his sandwiches and waiting for 
 Poldhu, thinking every now and then of Mrs. 
 Trevelyan and her necklace. He wondered if 
 
 59 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 it was the one she had on. Hardly; she 
 would n't be so foolish, with all those " detect- 
 ive-stewardesses " aboard. Still — Suddenly 
 he stopped eating. Out of the utter silence of 
 the aerial sea, a silence as dead as that around 
 the frozen pole, a silence opaque in its density, 
 across, as it seemed, millions of miles and eons 
 of time, came to his waiting ear-drums the faint- 
 est pk — pk — pk, like — if it was like any- 
 thing — the pluck of a kitten's claw in the nap 
 of a carpet in a room across the hall — the 
 ghost of an inaudible signal, like one from a 
 spirit world. 
 
 "CQ — CQ — CQ — ZZ — ZZ — ZZ." 
 
 Poldhu was calling. 
 
 " All stations — all stations — all stations ! " 
 
 Three thousand miles away, a man in his 
 shirt-sleeves, in a shanty on a Cornwall cliff, a 
 man in an eye-shade, smoking a pipe under a 
 green electric bulb, with a pile of yellow sheets 
 on the table in front of him, was pressing a rub- 
 ber key with his forefinger and breaking a cur- 
 rent of electricity that shot across the black 
 waves through the night at 186,000 miles per 
 second — seven and a half times around the 
 world in a single tick of the five-shilling alarm- 
 
 60 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 clock at his elbow; and Micky and Morrissy, 
 and all the other operators off the Azores, were 
 hearing him as distinctly as if they were on the 
 other side of the room in that same shanty and 
 listening to the ticking of the clock. 
 
 Micky drew a pad toward him and picked up 
 a freshly sharpened pencil. The man in Corn- 
 wall threw a few commercial messages to boats 
 here and there on the northern route, and then 
 sent out his " SP — SP — SP " signal. " Press 
 for transmission only. Time 1.45. Four hun- 
 dred words." 
 
 At the end of every sentence he said " stop " 
 instead of punctuating. Micky took it down 
 mechanically. Sitting there in his little box in 
 the middle of the night, a half-eaten sandwich 
 beside him, he jotted down the doings of the 
 world as casually as if he were playing tit-tat- 
 to. 
 
 " Germany - has - not - yet - replied - France's 
 ultimatum - regarding - Morocco - stop - Con- 
 siderable - uneasiness - In - financial - circles - 
 Bank - of - England - raises - rate - one - half - 
 per - centum - stop - famine - spreading - in - 
 China - stop - Millions - on - verge - of - star- 
 vation - stop - Great - fire - in - New - York - 
 
 61 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 factory - scores - operators - suffocated - stop 
 Cunard - steamship - Carmania - breaks - tur - 
 bine - and - is - laid - up - for - repairs - passen- 
 gers - transferred - to - other - ships -. stop - 
 Prince - Rospetti - wins - 300,000 - francs - at 
 Monte - Carlo - stop." Then came the stock 
 market. 
 
 Micky took it all down religiously. Some 
 of it interested him and some of it did not. 
 Some beggar was always winning huge sums 
 at Monte Carlo, and he was sick of the Bourse 
 and the Stock Exchange. It bored him to 
 death — most of it ; there was something so im- 
 personal about it all ! He never seemed to pick 
 anything out of the air that meant anything to 
 him. Why could n't the man in Cornwall give 
 him a hint as to what the Hon. Evelyn was up 
 to, for instance ? Nothing ever made his heart 
 beat the slightest bit faster. 
 
 He yawned and glanced across at the photo- 
 graph of the " leggy little girl with the big 
 dog." In the haze of his pipe-smoke, she 
 seemed to be smiling at him. Then he stiffened 
 in his chair and listened with all his ears, peer- 
 ing feverishly into his coherer as if to verify 
 the faint message coming from so far away. 
 62 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Earl - of - Roakby - reported - dead - 
 from - pistol - shot - wound - at - Parsley - Croft - 
 seat - of - Marquis - of - Varricks - Tuesday - 
 last - stop - fact - concealed - until - today - and - 
 all - details - are - being - carefully - suppressed - 
 stop - disappearance - of - Cosmo - Graeme - 
 youngest - son - of - Lord - Varricks - coinci - 
 dent - with - homicide - leads - to - suspicion - of - 
 foul - play - stop - latter - believed - to - have - 
 left - England - and - to - be - either - on - Con - 
 tinent - or - on - ship - bound - for - America - 
 stop - all - ports - of - arrival - being - closely - 
 watched - stop - Scotland - Yard - requests - all - 
 transatlantic - liners - examine - passenger - list - 
 for - man - about - thirty - years - of - age - 
 weight - one - hundred - and - sixty - height - 
 six - feet - slightly - bald - blue - eyes - curly - 
 hair - clean - shaven - report - if - on board." 
 
 Micky turned slightly pale as the man at 
 Poldhu stopped short and began sending it all 
 over again, and the right hand which held his 
 stub of pencil trembled a little as he checked off 
 the same old story about the French ultimatum 
 and the price of consols and cotton. Earl of 
 Roakby murdered ! There was news for you ! 
 And the murderer had escaped and was snug 
 
 63 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 aboard an ocean liner. Tuesday last — and 
 this was the following Monday. If the fellow 
 had caught the Mauretania he would already 
 have reached New York. But she was jammed 
 with people from the Olympic. No, he would 
 have had to take some other and slower boat. 
 But why suppose he was on a liner ? Probably 
 he was hiding in some quiet English village. 
 Micky stopped checking up. Something made 
 him feel dizzy. The air in the wireless house 
 seemed strangely stuffy. There it was again: 
 
 " Earl - of - Roakby - reported - dead - from - 
 pistol - shot - wound - at - Parsley - Croft - seat - 
 of - Marquis - of - Varricks." 
 
 There was a queer roaring in his ears, and 
 he could not hear the man at Poldhu, try as 
 he would. There must be something doing at- 
 mospherically. Then a drop of sweat fell 
 from his forehead upon the pad. 
 
 " What 's the matter with me 1 " he won- 
 dered, as the cabin turned black for a moment. 
 " There 's nothing the matter with me ! " he 
 repeated, but his knees were shaking. With an 
 effort he shut off his detector and fumbled for 
 the door leading to the open air. For an in- 
 
 64 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 stant he let the night breeze dry his forehead; 
 then he seated himself crossed-legged on the 
 deck outside and leaned his back against the 
 side of the wireless house. 
 
 65 
 
IN WHICH MICKY OVERHEARS A MIDNIGHT CONVER- 
 SATION AND PREVENTS THE COMMISSION OF A 
 CRIME. 
 
 THE night was a glorious calm, so clear 
 that it almost gave the illusion of day. 
 A huge yellow moon rode full astern, and in 
 its weltering swath of light the wake of the 
 ship whirled and writhed, lashing itself to foam 
 against the rollers, then dropping out of sight 
 momentarily in the hollows, until, still revolv- 
 ing in grotesque circles, it twisted itself into an 
 endless white rope that trailed over the sea and 
 lost itself on the edge of the horizon. 
 
 On such nights as this Micky rarely turned 
 in at all, preferring to sit atop the deck-house, 
 watching the great ship surge through the 
 rollers that lifted her stern high up until the 
 rail touched the rim of the moon and, after 
 holding her for a moment, plunged her down 
 with a dizzying rush until the water roared in 
 
 66 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 a maelstrom behind her. The gulls had van- 
 ished. Not a light showed on the gray 
 expanse of the silvery, heaving sea. Four 
 hundred feet forward on the bridge, an ulstered 
 officer paced to and fro. Every window and 
 port-hole was dark, except a yellow circle in the 
 after deck-house, where some of the crew slept 
 and whence came the mournful tinkle of a man- 
 dolin. Even the throb of the propeller seemed 
 to be stilled, save when for a brief instant the 
 stern rose to the apex of the angle which it de- 
 scribed and the steamer trembled in her sleep. 
 The air was as soft as in the tropics. In the 
 silence it seemed as though a whisper could be 
 heard the length of the ship, although the night 
 was full of soft murmurs, the lapping and rush 
 of the water along the side, the strain of ropes, 
 and the seething of the waves. 
 
 He must have fallen asleep as he lay propped 
 against the wireless house, for the moon was 
 high overhead when the creak of shoes on the 
 deck below and the soft closing of a door 
 brought him tensely to himself. Dreams of 
 Enghsh castles, green lawns, and purple after- 
 noon shadows, of white-dressed girls and a big 
 St. Bernard dog, dissolved into a glittering sea 
 s 67 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 of golden mist out of which two voices broke 
 in startling sibilants: 
 
 "What are you doing on this boat?" It 
 was Mrs. Trevelyan speaking. 
 
 The man, her companion, gave a nervous 
 laugh. 
 
 "Why not?" he answered, affecting a light- 
 ness that seemed strangely artificial at that 
 place and hour. 
 
 " Don't fence, Cosmo! " she retorted almost 
 sharply. "Why not, indeed? You — in a 
 shabby suit in the second cabin — with a 
 beard ! " She laughed in that clinquant laugh 
 of hers that rivaled in clearness the light on 
 the edges of the distant waves. " In a beard! " 
 she repeated. 
 
 There was silence for a moment before 
 the man replied. He seemed to be waiting. 
 Then — 
 
 " Have you heard nothing? " he asked in dull 
 tones. 
 
 "Heard? I? What do you mean?" 
 
 Again the silence. 
 
 " I hardly thought It possible that you had 
 not, but, since you don't know, there is nothing 
 to tell." He spoke with infinite depression. 
 
 68 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " How mysterious you are I " she cried, striv- 
 ing to throw a careless jocularity into her words. 
 " You speak like the villain, or rather the mis- 
 understood hero, in a melodrama. My dear 
 fellow! What is it all about? Can't you see 
 how I 'm simply dying to share your secret with 
 you, whatever it is? We're old friends. 
 You 've made hopeless love to me a hundred 
 times. I leave you engaged to be married to 
 Evelyn Farquhar, one of the loveliest girls in 
 all England, tearing around from house-party 
 to house-party — and now, right in the midst of 
 the hunting season, when you ought to be full 
 of brandy-and-soda and tucked up sound asleep 
 in your little bed at Parsley Croft, you bob up, 
 looking like a half-baked sociologist, in the sec- 
 ond cabin of my steamer 1 I won't have it! 
 What have you done ? Have you done anything, 
 old sport? Cosmo dear, out with it. You can 
 trust me I " Her voice was tenderly coaxing. 
 
 The man drew back from her. Micky had 
 turned cold and his heart suddenly felt like 
 lead. Oh, Evelyn Farquhar! 
 
 "No — No, Lily! Don't ask me. I 
 know it looks like a rum go. It is a rum 'un. 
 You '11 know soon enough, doubtless. Just 
 
 71 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 cut me out, will you? How's Trevelyan? 
 I see that swine Ashurst is on board." 
 
 " You never liked him, did you ? " 
 
 " Like him I It 's beasts of his sort that 
 make England a by-word I Why do you have 
 him around? " 
 
 " If you were traveling first cabin I would n't. 
 But I 'm lonely, Cosmo. Don't you see I want 
 to be friends with you? You used to like me 
 a little bit. I '11 meet you here every night 
 after everybody else has gone to bed." 
 
 "Don't, Lily!" he groaned. " Can't you 
 see I 'm all cut up ? Forget me — just as I 'm 
 trying to forget England 1 Suppose some offi- 
 cer saw you here with me now at three o'clock 
 in the morning! It would make nice ship 
 gossip, would n't it ? Hurry back to your state- 
 room. It was crazy of you to come and knock 
 at my door." 
 
 " Oh, very well," she answered abruptly. 
 " I 've tried my best to be nice to you. I don't 
 suppose it would do even my reputation any 
 good to be seen at night around with second- 
 class passengers. You 're too cold a propo- 
 sition to bother with. You can paddle your 
 own canoe, and I '11 paddle mine, even if I 
 
 72 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 have to carry Ashurst in. it along with me ! " 
 There was the sound of a door closing 
 quickly. The man did not stir. Then he hur- 
 riedly opened it again and whispered hoarsely 
 after her: " Lily I — Lily ! " 
 
 During this surprising Interview Micky had 
 held himself quite motionless, undecided, after 
 the first shock of hearing his lady's name, 
 whether to make his presence known or not, 
 and indeed he was still debating the matter In 
 his mind when the conversation concluded as 
 unexpectedly as It had begun. Then the man 
 emerged from the shadow of the deck-house and 
 began to pace nervously up and down the deck. 
 His coat collar was still turned up and his felt 
 hat pulled down over his eyes, but his hands 
 writhed and twisted In the moonlight like fright- 
 ened snakes. It was clear that he was under 
 the severest tension, and now and again some 
 word muttered under his collar reached Micky 
 as he sat, the mute, involuntary witness of a 
 soul's torture. 
 
 And then the man began to glance quickly 
 around the deck, as if to make sure that no- 
 body was there. He took off his hat and ran 
 his hands through his curly hair, and the face 
 
 73 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Micky saw in the moonlight was the face of one 
 in hell. He began to be worried, for he had 
 seen them like that before — when the Lith- 
 uanian woman had jumped off the bow, and 
 the crazy Pole had dived over the rail near the 
 Azores the last time across. Cloud walked 
 slowly aft, holding his hat in his hand. He 
 trod as if in his sleep, with his eyes directly 
 astern. Micky slid down the ladder and in his 
 rubber-soled shoes followed on the other side of 
 the after deck-house. If Cloud contemplated 
 suicide, he knew where he meant to do it ! He 
 stole silently along, and reached the clear space 
 at the end of the ship before Cloud had emerged 
 on the other side. 
 
 There was an old wooden bench there, where 
 people who did not mind the cinders and the 
 motion could sit in the daytime and watch the 
 gulls. Another instant, and the creak of 
 Cloud's shoes could be heard ; another, and the 
 man himself appeared around the corner. He 
 stood in the moonlight, not more than six feet 
 from where Micky was flattened against the 
 star-board side of the deck-house. Only a 
 single twisted, weather-beaten iron rail sepa- 
 rated him from the actual stern itself — the 
 
 74 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 edge of the abyss, below which the white foam 
 churned itself into fantastic shapes, now look- 
 ing like a white patchwork quilt with green 
 squares floating quietly for a moment upon the 
 surface, then parting asunder with a roar, as 
 some unseen force sucked it down below into a 
 black hole amid a cataract of spouting waves. 
 There had always been a fascination for Micky 
 in the boiling caldron of blue-green water, and 
 Cloud must have felt it too, for he rested his 
 hands on the rail and gazed steadfastly into 
 its swirling depths. Should a man jump, there 
 was no doubt as to what would occur when he 
 entered that gyrating vortex. Down he would 
 be drawn, down, down, in that transparent 
 column of green and white, helpless and im- 
 movable in the mighty suction that would whirl 
 him pitilessly round and round, this way and 
 that, until, like a shark shooting towards its 
 victim, would sweep the huge propeller, slicing 
 him in two or beheading him and tossing his 
 dismembered body aside here and there, to 
 spin and dive in its wake until it freed itself 
 from the back current and floated to the sur- 
 face a mile or more behind, to bob face upward 
 in the moonlight to the surface, where, with 
 
 75 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 the morning sun, the screaming gulls would find 
 and settle on it. 
 
 As Cloud stood there, Micky saw it all, and he 
 turned faint with horror. What a deed must 
 rest on the stalwart Englishman's soul if he 
 could seriously contemplate doing such a thing! 
 What foul iniquity could this man have per- 
 petrated, when, as the woman he called " Lily " 
 had said, he ought to be tucked up in his little 
 bed at Parsley Croft, full of brandy-and-soda ? 
 Yet, whatever it was, Micky's inherited in- 
 stincts made his muscles stiffen in an auto- 
 matic resolve that no living temple of God 
 should cast itself thus down — that no creature 
 once of the sunlight, however abased and 
 sullied with crime or vice, should plunge into 
 the oblivion of death to rot in a nameless ocean 
 grave or be gnawed by the slimy denizens of the 
 sea, so long as he could save it. Murderer, be- 
 trayer, traitor, — it mattered not; the man him- 
 self was no sane judge of his present relation to 
 life. As he stood there he was but a mindless 
 effigy of a man swayed by the winds of destiny. 
 
 Thus the two stood. Cloud unconscious of 
 the other's presence, while a filament of 
 mackerel cirrus drifted between the moon's 
 76 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 path and the ship and made black the pit un- 
 derneath their feet. Only the surging rush of 
 the waters — through which the tinkling of the 
 mandolin came faintly. Only the deserted, 
 moon-swept deck. Only the vast, pale star- 
 specked sky. God and the man! 
 
 As In his sleep, drawn by some hypnotic 
 power, Cloud slowly removed his ulster and 
 hung it mechanically on the iron rail. Then he 
 laid his felt hat beneath it on the deck. A 
 moment more, and he ducked under and stood 
 upright on the slippery, heaving stern. There 
 was no doubt as to his purpose. He looked 
 down into the abyss, steadied himself, and took 
 a step backward, preparatory to the plunge. 
 
 Micky saw the move, and rushed swiftly 
 from his hiding-place. Another instant and he 
 threw himself upon the man from behind, pin- 
 ning his arms to his sides. On a wet convex 
 surface ten feet square, that heaved and lifted, 
 the two swayed and struggled, the one In his 
 resolve to take life, the other in his determina- 
 tion to save it; and all that Micky, In his hys- 
 terical excitement, could muster intelligence to 
 utter was a fatuous shriek of : 
 
 " O you bally ass ! You bally ass I " 
 77 
 
VI 
 
 IN WHICH MICKY TUCKS THE SON OF A MARQUIS IN 
 HIS BED AND MIXES SOME DRINKS AND THE NEWS. 
 
 FOR possibly ten seconds — a period 
 which seemed like so many hours to both 
 of them — Cloud and Micky struggled on 
 the trembling stern of the Pavonta. Then as' 
 the turtle-back rose-towards the moon on a huge 
 roller, they slipped, lost their footing instantly, 
 and plunged head foremost towards the deck- 
 house. Had the Pavonia's stern been drop- 
 ping into the hollow of the waves instead of 
 lifting^ upon the swell, they would as certainly 
 have shot in the other direction and been sucked 
 down into the green, weltering whirlpool that 
 roared and foamed behind the chains. But 
 by some instinct Micky had timed his rush to 
 the second, and now they came sliding inwards 
 over the stern, cursing, clawing and feebly 
 striking at each other until Cloud 's head hit 
 squarely against one of the stanchions that held 
 the guard-rail in place and his adversary man- 
 
 78 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 aged to drag him, white and motionless, but 
 safe, upon the deck. 
 
 Cloud lay there upon his back, his face 
 ghastly in the waning light of the moon, his 
 eyes closed and the blood oozing from a broad 
 scalp wound in his high forehead. His coat 
 still hung idly upon the rail, flopping to and 
 fro with every rise and fall of the ship. 
 Micky, faint now that the horrible danger of 
 the moment was over, sank weakly upon the 
 wooden bench and rested his head on his hands. 
 Both their hats had slipped overboard in the 
 melee, and one arm of Cloud's coat hanging 
 free of the rest of the garment waved almost 
 like a human thing and seemed to beckon 
 Micky towards the stern. He shuddered at 
 the thought of what they had escaped, and yet 
 his action had been so utterly instinctive, so 
 automatically altruistic, that not until this mo- 
 ment when the man was lying at his feet did 
 he fully perceive the significance of his act. 
 He gazed curiously at this inanimate thing who 
 was in fact no second-class passenger, or shabby 
 adventurer, but the son of an earl, a high-roll- 
 ing, hunting swell to whom by the curse of the 
 high gods his Lady of the Order of St. John 
 
 79 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 of Jerusalem had plighted her troth, forgetful 
 of her faithful Micky, forgetful of the wistaria 
 arbor and of the grove behind the second game- 
 keeper's, of their little gold rings and of the 
 post-card bearing the cabalistic " I. L. Y." 
 Here, alone with this silent corpse of a man, 
 on the wallowing stern of the Pavonia, it sud- 
 denly came to Micky that he had been jilted — 
 chucked — given the mitten, just as he might 
 have anticipated had he been a few years older 
 when he had marched out of the vicarage and 
 trudged so independently, if not arrogantly, to 
 the station. Yes, by Gad — he had hauled 
 back the very man that had spoiled his dream 
 for him — his " hated rival ! " Micky made 
 a wry little grimace at the ashen face in front 
 of him. There was a " note " for you I Yet 
 as moment by moment it grew clearer to him 
 that he had lost the Hon. Evelyn, that his poor 
 little collateral branch of a romance had been 
 kicked into the street like a yellow dog with a 
 tin can tied to its tail, that he had been a fool 
 and an ass to suppose that he would have the 
 ghost of a chance in inbred England to make 
 a girl happy, simply because he loved hef, 
 nevertheless second by second there welled up 
 
 80 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 in his heart something that drew him to this 
 sad, motionless figure upon the deck, something 
 — of chivalry perhaps (though he was only a 
 son of a second son I) — of the comradeship of 
 those who are fighting against odds on a losing 
 side, of motherhood for a life that had been 
 saved, of proprietorship for the same reason, 
 of pity 1 For this bally ass had won the Hon. 
 Evelyn in the correct, aristocratic, legal and 
 recognized way (and not behind the second 
 gamekeeper's), and then had proceeded to get 
 gay and do fool things ! 
 
 " My God, man ! " thought Micky, " when 
 you had her — whether you got her by fair 
 means or foul — whether she did it herself or 
 whether it was a stinking game of that bloody 
 old sneak the Earl, why — why — why in 
 God's name — did n't you sit tight and behave 
 yourself and hang on to her? For now you 've 
 lost a thousand times more than I have! 
 You poor, foolish, blundering devil 1 " 
 
 And a great surge of sympathy welled into 
 Micky's breast and (he was shaking and dizzy) 
 the tears came into his eyes, and, being only 
 twenty-three and not a hero at all, he suddenly 
 felt for this other fool of an Englishman the 
 
 8i 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 same kind of loyalty that sends gray-haired 
 Eton boys into battle shouting, " Floreat 
 Etona ! " — the same stupid, blind affection that 
 led dozens of English officers in the Mutiny or 
 the Malakand campaign to cut their way into 
 a howling mob of Kaffirs or Afghans and carry 
 out on their backs comrades that they hated — 
 in a friendly sort of way. For something 
 told him that in essence this man was a brother 
 — one of his own clean kind, and that whatever 
 he might have done, however desperate its char- 
 acter, there must be — must be — some ex- 
 tenuating circumstance, if not justification. 
 
 " Yes, my friend, we 're both in the same 
 boat, but having saved your life, I now propose 
 to go the whole hog and make a man of you," 
 was the unconscious drift of Micky's dazed 
 cerebrations, and before he knew what he was 
 doing he was doing precisely what he ought to 
 have been doing, namely, dragging Cloud to- 
 wards the deck-house with the idea of tucking 
 him up In his little bed with a brandy-and-soda 
 inside him just as Mrs. Trevelyan had said he 
 ought to be — at Parsley Croft. 
 
 It was a dead weight that Micky had to lug 
 along the deck for some hundred feet before he 
 
 82 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 reached the door of Cloud's state-room. Quite 
 out of breath, he dropped him flat outside while 
 he entered the stuffy little room, turned on the 
 electric light and poured out a basin of water. 
 Than he ran up his ladder, fished a bottle of 
 brandy from his locker, and descended again 
 to where Cloud was lying. His one present 
 fear was that the watch might notice what was 
 doing, or that some steward might be loafing 
 about for a last pipe before turning in, and re- 
 port the matter, for he felt a fierce determina- 
 tion to protect his property rights in Cloud at 
 all costs, — the man was his and should remain 
 so. 
 
 He lifted Cloud's head as gently as he could 
 and let a few drops of the brandy slide down 
 his throat. Then he dampened a towel, bathed 
 his forehead and wiped off the blood. The 
 man gave a groan and opened his eyes. For 
 an instant he gazed stupidly at Micky — then : 
 
 " What 's the matter? " he asked quietly. 
 
 " Hit your bloomin' nut," answered Micky 
 lightly. " 'Lie still a minute and then we '11 
 tumble off to beddie! " 
 
 Cloud closed his eyes wearily. 
 
 " Have ' a wee doc and doris '? " urged his 
 83 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 attendant. " You knocked yourself out for 
 fair." 
 
 He poured out a strong quarter tumbler and 
 held it to Cloud's lips. 
 
 " Now just hang on to me, if you can," 
 wheedled Micky, " and we '11 soon have you 
 where you belong." 
 
 He put his arms under Cloud's shoulders and 
 lifted him, after an effort, to his feet. Then 
 he. guided the still half unconscious man into 
 his state-room and tumbled him into his bunk. 
 
 " I must have given myself a nasty crack! " 
 whispered Cloud. " My head feels as if I 'd 
 been chucked at a water jump and landed head 
 on — in a pile of stones." 
 
 " It was almost as bad as that," said Micky, 
 as he closed the door and loosened Cloud's 
 collar and cravat. " Now I 'm going to un- 
 dress you as well as I can, and after you 've had 
 another nip of brandy I 'm going to leave you 
 until morning." 
 
 He fussed over Cloud as lovingly as a young 
 mother over her babe, and the other, still con- 
 fused from the blow of the stanchion, suffered 
 himself to be made ready for the night. 
 
 " Now! " exclaimed Micky as, after having 
 84 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 bandaged Cloud's head, he turned him so that 
 the light would not fall upon his eyes, " try to go 
 to sleep. I '11 come in and see how you are 
 every half hour or so, and whatever you do, 
 don't ring for the steward. Understand?" 
 
 Cloud made no answer, and Micky slipped 
 the soiled silk curtain along its wire and en- 
 closed him in his bunk. Quietly he turned out 
 the light, locked the door on the outside and 
 put the key in his pocket. So that was done ! 
 
 He leaned heavily against the deck-house. 
 It was now nearly seven bells. Half an hour 
 more and the yellow disk of the moon would be- 
 gin to whiten, the stars would draw away to 
 minute points In a paling sky, — then would 
 come the moment when the faded magic of the 
 moonlight would be shattered as with a single 
 blow by the reality of dawn. You could n't 
 say just when it happened on one of those white 
 nights, — but take that jolly-boat, over there. 
 One minute it floated in a sort of indistinct 
 yellow haze, not quite focusable, getting dim- 
 mer and dimmer, grayer and grayer, and then 
 — bang ! it anchored itself — a plain ordinary 
 jolly-boat in its natural green and white, and 
 the sea which had been quite bright and color- 
 6 85 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 less towards the east with the reflection of the 
 moon suddenly became dark blue, almost black, 
 against the burning dawn. 
 
 Micky climbed wearily up to the wireless 
 house, pausing at each step. The mystery of 
 the night was wholly gone. He felt jaded, dis- 
 gruntled, depressed, — perhaps a bit the way 
 Cloud had felt when he walked sternwards not 
 so long ago twisting his hands. The joy of 
 living had been knocked clean out of him and 
 there was a dull ache In his heart that became 
 a poignant agony of soul as he pressed the elec- 
 tric button in his little ofEce and went over to 
 where the picture of the little girl with the dog 
 was fastened above his bunk. 
 
 Whatever might have happened to the real 
 Evelyn in the three years last past, the little 
 girl in the picture had not changed. Under 
 the bushy curls that clung around her shoulders 
 and fell almost to her waist she gazed smilingly 
 out at him, with a glance archly innocent. 
 Micky gave a kind of hiccough and with eyes 
 suffused with burning tears took out his jack- 
 knife and pried the photograph off the wall. 
 Then he opened the drawer of his desk and 
 pushed it under a pile of papers at the back. 
 
 86 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 It was a fool thing to have a girl's photograph 
 on your wall anyway, he decided. Mechan- 
 ically he stuffed some tobacco into the bowl of 
 his pipe, but he did not strike a match, and, ex- 
 hausted though he was, he stood looking out of 
 the window towards the east. 
 
 The long antennas of the day were stretch- 
 ing up into the lightening sky. In a few hours 
 the Captain — that irascible, illogical, alto- 
 gether detestable captain — would be yawning 
 in his bunk and ringing for his coffee, marma- 
 lade and — the news. Oh, he 'd want the 
 news, all right, in spite of his jaw that morning, 
 — ■ want it all, and growl because there was n't 
 more! Micky gave a mournful laugh. 
 Well, there was one bit he would n't get — at 
 least not for some time, — the bit about the 
 murder of the Earl of Roakby and the flight 
 of Cosmo Graeme. Micky had no question 
 about that. It was n't even debatable. Save 
 a man, and turn him over to be hanged? 
 Not on your life — not even if the mur- 
 derer was your rival and by so doing you 
 could get rid of him once and for all! No, 
 so far as Graeme and he were concerned the 
 Hon. Evelyn could choose between them and 
 
 87 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 do as she liked. But wouldn't the Captain 
 roar, though, when he reached New York and 
 discovered how he 'd been fooled, and would n't 
 he send in a fine, eloquent complaint to the 
 Marconi Company? Think of it! A captain 
 with a chance to duplicate the Crippen case 
 cheated clean out of it. Why, if Micky handed 
 him everything Poldhu had sent out that morn- 
 ing old Ponsonby would be all over the ship 
 by eight o'clock and have every passenger lined 
 up for inspection. He 'd have Cloud or 
 Graeme, if that was his name, in irons and 
 tossed into the brig before you would say 
 knife! Not much! And yet — the dawn 
 brightened — it was a hell of a hole for a well- 
 meaning Marconi man to find himself in, — 
 made you think of one of those paper novels 
 the first-cabin female passengers were always 
 giving you, — where whatever you did you were 
 bound to do the wrong thing. 
 
 His eyelids drooped and his head began to 
 feel as if it were made of lead. He wondered 
 if It was n't time to go down and see how 
 Cloud was getting along. His head fell for- 
 ward. Why was he so done up ? But were n't 
 there some special circumstances in this particu- 
 
 88 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 lar case, that rendered It almost imperative that 
 he should disclose the fact of Roakby's murder 
 and the presence of his murderer on board the 
 Pavonia? Would n't the Marconi people kick 
 up a jolly row, ehl He laughed sleepily. 
 What did he carel Cloud belonged to him. 
 He was a decent sort, after all, he 'd be bound, 
 if you only knew the whole truth, and Roakby 
 was a swine — everybody knew that anyhow ! 
 He drew some paper towards him and began 
 laboriously to copy his notes taken at one 
 o'clock. 
 
 " Poldhu reports famine spreading In China. 
 Germany not yet replied to France's ultimatum 
 regarding Morocco. Considerable uneasiness 
 In financial circles. Bank of England raises 
 rate one-half per centum. Brother John died 
 this morning. — Shall I sell? Terrible fire in 
 New York factory. Scores of operators suffo- 
 cated. Situation diplomatique tres grave — " 
 
 Wasn't that all? He fumbled with half- 
 shut eyes among his papers. Was n't there 
 something about the Carmania? Oh, yes, here 
 it was. 
 
 " Cunard steamship Carmania breaks tur- 
 bine and is laid up for repairs; passengers 
 
 89 
 
" C. Q.," OR IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 transferred to other ships. Consols up }i per 
 cent. Earl of Roakby reported dead — " 
 No, not that! He rubbed it furiously out.. 
 Not that ! Not that I And with the scrawled 
 sheet askew in front of him Micky slid for- 
 ward upon the desk and fell into a coma of 
 utter exhaustion with his auburn head pillowed 
 upon his arm. 
 
 The sun seared the horizon with a scarlet 
 pencil, then poked a burnished disk above the 
 waves, but the red beams which shot across 
 the sea and into the wireless house did not 
 awaken the sleeping boy. Groups of sailors 
 in bare feet appeared and silently began to 
 play the hose over decks already scrupu- 
 lously clean, while others on hands and knees 
 scoured them with holystone. The ensign was 
 shot up. A champagne drummer disclosed 
 himself on the boat deck in pink pajamas and 
 disheveled hair, smoking a cigar. Below decks 
 you could hear electric bells being rung for 
 breakfast, or for trousers sent to be pressed 
 over-night. Vague noises came from the 
 scullery. Up forward somewhere echoed the 
 faint notes of a bugle. Two or three gulls 
 were already hovering high over the stern, 
 
 90 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 their wings ever and anon winking white in the 
 sunlight. To the north a huge freighter run- 
 ning parallel to the Pavonia was proudly 
 breasting the rollers. The breeze was fresh. 
 It was going to be a good day. It was in the 
 air. 
 
 At eight bells a white-coated steward came 
 running along the deck and clearing the second- 
 cabin reserve in two leaps bounded up the lad- 
 der to the wireless house. He was the Cap- 
 tain's steward — after the news. Just on the 
 point of shouting indignantly to Micky, he 
 stopped short in the doorway and smiled. The 
 boy was still sleeping the sleep of oblivion, the 
 scrawled copy between his fingers. 
 
 "Well, I'm blowed!" he muttered. 
 " Poor little tyke's pl'yed out ! Damned if 
 I'll wyke 'im!" 
 
 He took the sheet with care from Micky's 
 fingers and glanced over it hurriedly. What 
 was the use of being the Captain's steward if 
 you did n't get something out of it? Then his 
 brow wrinkled. 
 
 " Germany not yet replied to France's ulti- 
 matum regarding Morocco. — Brother John 
 died this morning. — Shall I sell?" 
 
 91 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Holy cats I " he grinned. " Micky must ' a ' 
 kinder mixed things up. That 's the damndest 
 bloomin' noosepaper I Ve 'ad yet ! " 
 
 And so thought the purple captain, but he 
 held his peace, for reasons best known to him- 
 self. 
 
 92 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 IN WHICH MRS. HERBERT TREVELYAN COMMITS AN 
 INDISCRETION AND DISCOVERS SOMETHING WHILE 
 SO DOING. 
 
 THE bugle for inspection at ten o'clock 
 awoke Mrs. Hubert Trevelyan out of a 
 deep sleep, during the last two hours of which 
 her French maid had sat motionless by the 
 window, ready to spring forward at the first 
 suggestion that her mistress had regained con- 
 sciousness. The de luxe suite occupied by this 
 distinguished lady was situated on the upper 
 promenade and could be entered directly from 
 outside, so that what it gained in convenience 
 it lost in quiet. Inconsiderate passengers 
 tramped up and down outside late at night and 
 early in the morning, talking loudly — children 
 romped under the windows and threw balls of 
 celluloid and of rubber through the open door- 
 way — and — be it confessed — gentlemen — 
 and others — on pretense of being en route to 
 the smoking-room had been suspected of peek- 
 
 93 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 ing through the slats in the shutters as they 
 went by. 
 
 It is hardly to be thought that this last in- 
 discretion would have bothered Lily Trevelyan 
 in the least, — it is more probable that she 
 would have accepted it simply as a tribute to 
 her charms. There are such women and they 
 filled the ranks of the Chateaureux, the 
 Montpasans, the Pompadours (I considerately 
 avoid all English names) since the dawn of 
 history. There is something quite charming in 
 the combination of coquetry and natural in- 
 nocence which does not object to the display of 
 a soft tapering arm bursting from the spring 
 foliage of a flurry of Parisian lingerie or of 
 a well-rounded neck and bust arising out of a< 
 setting of the same tantalizing material. 
 Sometimes indeed Mrs. Trevelyan uncon- 
 sciously forgot to pull down her blinds and 
 sometimes she complained to her maid of lack 
 of air. But why criticize thus unkindly one of 
 the most beautiful of women? Or why speak 
 slightingly of one who still wielded in a marked 
 degree the most dangerous weapon in human 
 destiny ? 
 
 Sunlight, reflected from the waves, played in 
 94 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 little globules of catoptric radiance on the 
 white painted wall above her head — myriads 
 of will-o'-the-wisp " Peter Pans " were there 
 dancing and dodging, mingling and leaping, 
 darting eluslvely hither and yon — like the 
 pleasures of life which she had sought and was 
 still seeking to grasp in her firm white hand. 
 And she lay there lazily gazing upward at them 
 and felt that life was good and that she had 
 nothing to regret but much to give her pride, 
 and only wished that the bubbles of joy were 
 not evanescent (as she knew perfectly well they 
 were) and did not burst even as you quaffed the 
 wine of life. She lay there like an Egyptian 
 queen or an Indian princess and, if we are to 
 believe history, rather less cruel and more de- 
 cent than either, and wondered whether she 
 would turn over for another little doze or tell 
 Fantlne to bring her breakfast. She was in 
 that state of complete comfort where the fact 
 that, if she pursued the latter course, she would 
 have to elect between marmalade and honey, 
 made her quite ready to remain as she was, in 
 a state of somewhat unstable mental equilib- 
 rium. She knew however that the unchang- 
 ing laws of her nature would shortly drag her 
 
 95 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 out into the sunlight and into the focus of men's 
 eyes, and so she stretched her legs and snug- 
 gled down into her bevy of pink and blue silk 
 pillows (yes, madam, some ladies do carry 
 them on board ship) and good-naturedly set 
 herself against fate, much as a happily and 
 facetiously obstinate puppy will allow itself to 
 be dragged around by its tail. 
 
 The nerves of the older women would have 
 been set on edge by the noises around her, — 
 but not Lily Trevelyan's. She had no nerves. 
 Sailors ran up and down directly over her head. 
 Below her she could feel the deep-down distant 
 throb of the engine and the vibration of the 
 screw. The seething of the waves along the 
 side rose and fell on her ears with the move- 
 ment of the ship and the wooden partitions 
 squeaked and wheezed, with the slow but regu- 
 lar upheaval and subsidence, like the creak of 
 a monstrous shoe. But these sounds did not 
 disturb her. 
 
 Children began to throw ring toss forward, ' 
 and to squeal and quarrel; down on the main 
 deck the four male passengers who had monop- 
 olized the port (the best) shuffleboard area 
 since the first day of the voyage were shovel- 
 
 96 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Ing the disks into place and starting to ,play with 
 boisterous enthusiasm. Jm 
 
 " S-s- sh- sh- sh- sh- sh- click - Jfmck! " went 
 the disks. " S- s- sh- sh- sh- s\^ clock - click- 
 click!" 
 
 Two old maids began walking up and down 
 in the sun outside and paused in front of the 
 window. '*' 
 
 " You Ve noticed her, of course," remarked 
 the ^rst in a rather asthhlatic but distinctly 
 superior manner. " She 's the one that wears 
 the daycoUytay gown and the big string of 
 pearls every night." 
 
 "Noticed her! I should say I had!" 
 answered the other in the cracked, nasal tones 
 that Lily had learned to know so well as a 
 child in Lowell. " Bad taste, / call it. I 
 don't know what it is about such women attracts 
 men so ! " 
 
 " Well, I 'm glad I don't know ! " sniffed the 
 other. " They say she acted scandalous over 
 there and that she was the Prince's — " 
 
 The woman lowered her voice and the pair 
 moved off along the deck out of earshot. Lily 
 smiled comfortably among her pillows. Poor 
 flat-chested, withered things ! No, they would 
 
 97 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 never know what attracts the men so, — or at 
 any rate they would never admit that they knew 
 it. She could afford to be magnanimous. In- 
 deed she was fully aware that either of her 
 critics, had she dropped a handkerchief or a 
 book upon the deck, would have breathlessly 
 scrambled around on their bony old knees to 
 return it to her with gracious smiles. 
 
 " Fantine ! " she murmured drowsily. 
 
 " Oui, madame! " 
 
 " Ring for the stewardess ! And order 
 breakfast — honey, I think, this morning." 
 
 " Oui, madame." 
 
 The maid laid down the ruffle upon which she 
 was sewing and rang the bell. She was a 
 swarthy, wiry creature, — crisp, capable and dis- 
 creet. Some day she would return to Paris 
 and marry again, and educate her child, which 
 just now was in an institution where she had 
 placed it before taking service. There are 
 many of these " widow-maids " in New York 
 and London. But nobody knew about the 
 child and nobody cared, and nobody would have 
 guessed that each night she prayed to the 
 Virgin with passionate tenderness for its safe 
 keeping and, with the tears in her black eyes, 
 98 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 covered with kisses a tiny pair of shoes sur- 
 reptitiously drawn from the bottom of her sew- 
 ing bag. No, the world of men and of most 
 women would have classified her as a rather 
 smart-looking, rather hard-looking, rather 
 wicked-looking and distinctly good-looking 
 French girl, who knew a thing or two and prob- 
 ably more than she ought, who had her price, 
 perhaps, but realized when she was well off and 
 stuck to the bridge that carried her over. Yet 
 she had her other side, and every penny that she 
 could save went into the Postal savings bank for 
 her " pauvre Philippe." She had been with 
 Mrs. Trevelyan five years and during that 
 period had never been guilty of the slightest 
 indiscretion nor seen any. Such women some- 
 times become the mothers of deputies and 
 cabinet ministers. 
 
 Now the maid pushed aside the silk curtain 
 of the berth and assisted her mistress to rise, 
 and when the starchy stewardess arrived with 
 a hot special breakfast prepared under the sec- 
 ond steward's own particular eye, Mrs. Trevel- 
 yan, rosy from her bath, was reclining in an 
 armchair in a blue Japanese dressing-gown 
 heavily embroidered with roses and dragons, 
 
 99 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 while Fantine deftly dressed the heavy mass of 
 golden yellow hair that hung almost to the 
 floor. Mrs. Trevelyan's cheeks always glowed 
 with unfictitious health, and now as she sat 
 smiling and chatting to Fantine she presented 
 a truly lovely picture to the eyes of the steward- 
 ess bringing in the tray. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Dorrance," said Mrs. 
 Trevelyan. " What a glorious day ! " 
 
 " Fine, madam," answered the stewardess as 
 she placed the tray on the wicker table in front 
 of Mrs. Trevelyan. " It 's lovely weather — 
 and, if you will pardon me sayin' it as should n't 
 — you 're as lovely as a rose yourself this morn- 
 in'." 
 
 Fantine doing her mistress' hair smiled the 
 faintest undefinable smile at the directness and 
 banality of this broadside compliment. 
 
 " Thanks, Dorrance I " laughed Lily. " You 
 can say it just as often as you like! Why 
 doesn't everybody realize that nobody minds 
 the nice things people say, no matter how un- 
 deserved we know them to be. And truly they 
 have a great deal to do with how we look and 
 act. I 'm sure I really shall look lovely this 
 
 ICO 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 morning just because you say so, and if you only 
 believed I was very, very good, I 'm convinced 
 I should be a saint." 
 
 " Yes, madam," answered Dorrance, feeling 
 a bit out of her depth and also a little ill at 
 ease, for although she was a stout, middle-aged 
 and rosy-cheeked English party with a Santa 
 Claus smile and motherly manner, she eyed 
 human nature with suspicion and made a living 
 as a detective in the United States Customs' 
 Service. " Yes, madam, — thank you, madam. 
 — Shall I go or can I get you anything? " 
 
 " Nothing, thank you I " smiled Lily " Un- 
 less you hand me my pearls over there. 
 Fantlne's hands are full of my hair and things." 
 
 She nodded towards the dresser where on a 
 red morocco case lay coiled the pearl necklace 
 that she had bought at Voysans' in the Rue de 
 la Paix the week before sailing with the money 
 her husband had sent her for the purpose. 
 
 Mrs. Dorrance had seen the pearls before, 
 
 " had seen them daily, had been watching for 
 
 them, in fact, when Mrs. Trevelyan had come 
 
 aboard at Genoa, owing to the perfection of 
 
 that system of espionage adopted by the Cus- 
 
 7 lOI 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 toms Service over the American in Paris and 
 the compulsory information extorted from the 
 jewelers of the Rue de Rivoli and the Rue de 
 la Paix in return for being allowed to do busi- 
 ness in peace, whereby every important sale is 
 reported tP the eager officials. The necklace 
 had cost her $50,000. Against her husband's 
 express advice she had spent the entire amount 
 on the pearls themselves instead of reserving 
 a portion of the money to pay the duty, but the 
 obvious difference between the necklace offered 
 her for 150,000 francs and the present one at 
 250,000 had been too much for her and she 
 had succumbed to the soft iridescence of the 
 handful of weightless things, had set prudence 
 aside, and with the idea of getting them in 
 somehow without duty had hardly hesitated 
 before purchasing the more expensive string. 
 And can she be blamed? 
 
 Perfect — every one — bluish white, almost 
 opalescent at times, the necklace contained 
 thirty-nine pearls, absolutely matched on each 
 side and graduated exactly from the big one 
 in the center to the smaller ones at the ends 
 next to the diamond clasp which in itself was a 
 precious thing of value. She took them from 
 102 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 the stewardess and held them up in the light, 
 swinging them to and fro, gently. 
 
 " Beautiful — are n't they? " she cried. 
 
 " Beautiful, madam 1 " gasped the stewardess 
 in unfeigned appreciation, for she knew a good 
 pearl as well as anybody. 
 
 " Yes," continued Lily, " I care for them 
 more than for any of my other things. Mr. 
 Trevelyan bought them for me five years ago 
 at Tiffany's in New York and I wear them 
 everywhere. I just could n't live without them. 
 No, nothing else, Dorrance ! " 
 
 She poured out a cup of steaming coffee and 
 crushed a honey-dipped Vienna roll between 
 her white teeth. 
 
 " Dear old Dorrance ! " she laughed. " If 
 they were all as easy as she is I But Hubert 
 would never get over it if he had to pay $30,000 
 more duty on those pearls — never I I fancy 
 I can manage. Surely I can hide them some- 
 where ! " 
 
 " The inspectors are very thorough, madam," 
 ventured Fantine. " I am told that now they 
 even make the ladies undress, — and they look 
 everywhere ! There is no escape at all ! " 
 
 " Nonsense I " returned her mistress rather 
 103 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 nervously. " They would n't do such a thing. 
 Anyhow, you could bring them in. No one 
 would think of searching you/ " 
 
 "I? — Oh, madam! I should not dare! 
 They might put me In prison ! " cried Fantine. 
 
 " Don't I " snapped Mrs. Trevelyan. " You 
 are pulling my hair. Well, I 'm sure we can 
 devise some way to fool the inspectors. Any- 
 way, it does n't do any harm to try. You can 
 always pay the duty If you don't succeed ! " 
 
 " Peut-etre, madame! " answered Fantine, 
 shrugging her shoulders. " I should not like 
 to do it ! " 
 
 By this time Mrs. Trevelyan had finished her 
 breakfast and the maid had fastened her into 
 a trim, ochre-colored costume and pinned on 
 her hat. 
 
 " Foilaf Madame! " she sighed, stepping 
 back. " Fous etes charmante! La plus 
 chic!" 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan glanced at herself in the glass 
 and lit a cigarette from a silver box lying on 
 the dressing table. Then she stepped out on 
 deck and walked erectly towards the stern. It 
 was now about eleven o'clock and the edge had 
 been already taken off the morning appetite 
 104 
 
"C. Q."; ORj IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 for exercise on the part of the ship's passengers. 
 The shuffle-boarders were still at their eternal 
 game, but most of the others had retired to the 
 saloon or smoking-room for bridge, or were 
 tucked up in their deck chairs, dreaming over 
 novels. Lily Trevelyan crossed the reserved 
 second-cabin space, and, hesitating for a moment 
 outside Cloud's door, climbed briskly up the 
 ladder to Micky's office. The door was shut 
 but, always ready for a joke, she opened it 
 stealthily. Perhaps she could put her hands 
 over his eyes and make him guess who it was! 
 He 'd guess, too ! 
 
 But to her amazement Micky lay at his desk, 
 his head on his arms, amid a riot of yellow 
 sheets, sound asleep. He breathed heavily. 
 He was, as she would have said, " dead to the 
 world." Poldhu or The Ushant might shriek 
 across the ether waves, Tangier might summon 
 Impatiently, a sinking ship might send out the 
 danger call of " S O S " — but it would be in 
 vain. It would take more that* a wireless mes- 
 sage to wake Micky Fitz. 
 
 " Poor little man! " she whispered to herself. 
 " Poor tired, little man! " 
 
 She leaned over and brushed his hair with 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 her lips, — and as she did so she seized the op- 
 portunity of glancing at the messages in Micky's 
 penciled scrawl on the sheet around him. She 
 absorbed the news about France and Germany, 
 took in the situation diplomatique, made a 
 mental note of the price of consols, observed 
 , that Brother John had died suddenly, and then 
 started forward with half-parted lips as she read 
 of the murder of the Earl of Roakby. 
 
 " My God! " she ejaculated. " Cosmo has 
 done it ! The fool I Why did he take a man 
 like that 1" 
 
 She was trembling with excitement. 
 
 " I never guessed! " she gasped. " I never 
 suspected for a minute ! Why, they '11 hang 
 him I Poor Cosmo ! — The idiot ! — I wonder 
 if Micky 's told the Captain. Of course 1 
 Lucky they did n't see me with him last night I 
 This is a go I " 
 
 She glanced hastily around the office, missed 
 the picture of the Hon. Evelyn from its ac- 
 customed place and smiled in spite of her upset 
 nerves. Funny coincidence — three men on 
 the same ship, thrown together quite by 
 chance, and all in love with the same girl! 
 And three such men — a masher, a murderer 
 io6 
 
She read of the murder of the Earl of Roakby 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 and a Marconi man ! Yet she knew which she 
 would have taken had the way been open to her 
 
 — even though he had red hair, a pug nose, and 
 freckles ! The " way of a man with a maid " ? 
 Rather, if you please, the way of a maid with 
 a manl Who can explain the idiosyncrasies, 
 
 — the charming irrationalities of woman's gift 
 for unnatural selection ? 
 
 So Mrs. Trevelyan, with a lingering look at 
 Micky lying hot and flushed in the noonday sun, 
 quietly closed the door of the wireless house 
 and hurried back to the boat deck, fearful lest 
 she should meet Cosmo Graeme and not know 
 what to say to him. 
 
 109 
 
iVIII 
 
 IN WHICH MICKY HAS A STRANGE DREAM AND MRS. 
 TREVELYAN BECOMES WORRIED ABOUT PEARLS AND 
 OTHER THINGS. 
 
 MICKY dreamed, at the last, strange 
 dreams. " 'T was brillig and the slithy 
 toves " were clinging like huge leeches to the 
 sides and stern of the ship, and trying to climb 
 on board, while he, alone, in the moonlight, 
 imshed their white jelly-like tentacles off the 
 rail. But they came all about him and one 
 larger than the rest swarmed its white pulpy 
 body over and grasped him round the waist 
 and legs and arms and held him helpless and 
 smothered — and laughed a silvery, glittering 
 laugh and dragged him to the stern, while 
 Cloud sat cross-legged on the deck-house roof 
 and played, " Ah 1 lend yo' ma' hat; Ah '1 
 lend yo' ma' flat ! " on a tinkling mandolin. 
 Then the " tove " pulled him gently over and 
 they plunged swiftly downward into the boiling 
 froth of the wake and were tossed around and 
 no 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 around, still locked in a strangling embrace. 
 
 The water roared all about them and away 
 up above, through the foam, he could see the 
 stars whirling in spirals and Cloud still play- 
 ing on the mandolin, then the " tove " released 
 him and he worked his way through the dark 
 currents for miles along the bottom of the 
 ocean until he came groping through the coal 
 chute of the vicarage, and found himself in 
 the library, sitting at the desk with one of his 
 uncle's sermons in his hand, and the Captain's 
 steward was trying to take it away from him, 
 singing, " Rocked in the craydul of ther deep, 
 I lay me down in peace to sleep." 
 
 Just then the sun rose and suffocated him, 
 and he floated out through the vicarage gar- 
 den until he lay in the broad noonday heat by 
 the lilac arbor and became very, very happy 
 and peaceful and sleepy — just like the song. 
 There was a smell of violets all about him and 
 Evelyn Farquhar came daintily across the lawn 
 in a white frock with a big blue sash, smiling 
 at him with parted lips and teasing eyes, and 
 he kept his own shut and pretended not to see 
 her. She came close and bent over him as he 
 lay on the hot grass and touched his hair, and 
 III 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 whispered in that low, sweet voice of hers, — 
 "I. L. Y. — but I'm engaged to Cosmo 
 Graeme. Oh, Micky dear, why did you go 
 away?" And he gave a great sob, for he 
 knew she could never be his, and reached for 
 her with his arms, but she vanished, leaving 
 only the smell of the violets behind her, and he 
 heard a tiny voice say right below his window, 
 " Just knock him enough to push him over the 
 line and you '11 stay in the ' 9 ' yourself." He 
 knew it was the little hunchback — playing 
 shuffle-board — in the lilac arbor. There was 
 something wrong about the whole thing he felt 
 indignantly, and struggled to his feet amid a 
 shower of yellow papers. 
 
 The sun was pouring through the windows 
 of the wireless house. There was a pungent 
 odor of violets everywhere and — he looked 
 through the window — Mrs. Trevelyan was 
 just going down the ladder. 
 
 It came to him with something of a shock 
 that he must have been asleep — and that the 
 Captain had n't got his news, and it bothered 
 him for a minute until he remembered the 
 other events of the night before and how he 
 had kept Cloud locked in his state-room. Then 
 112 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 he quite forgot the Captain. His own back 
 was lame and his muscles felt stiff and creaky. 
 He must get right after Cloud; there was no 
 question about that. 
 
 " Whew ! " he whiffed as he threw open the 
 forward window. " Smells like a chemist's ! " 
 
 He stooped laboriously and gathered the scat- 
 tered sheets, noticing the absence of the draft 
 he had prepared for the Captain's use. Per- 
 haps Mrs. Trevelyan had swiped it. Then 
 with a feeling of relief his eye caught the jot- 
 tings he had made of the news from Poldhu 
 and the Roakby affair. Lucky that hadn't 
 been stolen while he slept, — and yet, if Mrs. 
 Trevelyan had been up there, no doubt she 
 had read it and by this time it was all over the 
 ship! No — she was Cloud's friend. Of 
 course she would n't give him away 1 Or 
 would she! Perhaps she had gone directly to 
 Cloud himself and taxed him with it. Any- 
 how he must get busy and look after his prisoner 
 of war. 
 
 He brushed his hair — the hair that some- 
 thing had touched — in front of his cracked 
 sixpenny mirror, straightened his collar and tie, 
 and swabbed his face and hands with the cor- 
 ns 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 ner of a towel stuck in the water pitcher. 
 These primitive ablutions over, he felt in his 
 pocket for Cloud's key, removed from behind 
 the door an old worn cap to take the place of 
 the one lost overboard, and slowly climbed 
 down the ladder. 
 
 Outside Cloud's room he stopped and lis- 
 tened. There was nothing going on in there, 
 and he knocked softly. There was no re- 
 sponse. He thrust the key into the lock, 
 turned it and opened the door. The state- 
 room was empty; the bird had flown. More- 
 over, the steward had been in and put things 
 quite to rights. The place looked just like 
 any other second-class cabin, — not a bit like 
 the den of a murderer or the son of a mar- 
 quis or of any other extraordinary or sensa- 
 tional person. The silk curtains bellied gently 
 at the port-holes and over the berth; there 
 was an overcoat — yes! the very overcoat 
 Cloud had hung over the rail — peacefully 
 hooked against the back of the door; and there 
 were clean sheets and pillow-cases on the bed. 
 No sign anywhere of Cloud's suicidal attempt. 
 Where was he? Overboard, perhaps? 
 
 A shadow darkened the wall and the gaunt 
 114 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 face of the second-class passenger appeared In 
 the port-hole. 
 
 " Good morning," said Micky cheerily. 
 " You gave me quite a start, you know 1 How 
 on earth did you get out?" 
 
 Cloud left the port-hole and came to the 
 door of the state-room. He looked very white 
 and a neat bandage had taken the place of 
 Micky's improvised one of the night before. 
 
 " You forgot the steward," he said. " I pre- 
 tended to be asleep, until finally I could n't keep 
 up the bluff any longer and the chap let himself 
 in from the outside. He did n't notice that 
 there was n't any key." 
 
 He held out a lean, muscular hand which 
 Micky clasped firmly. 
 
 " How 's your head? " inquired the latter. 
 
 " My head 's well enough," returned Cloud. 
 Then, " I 'm afraid I put you to a lot of trouble 
 last night." 
 
 " Not at all ! Not at all ! " rejoined Micky 
 as if saving people from committing suicide 
 were a daily occurrence with him. " You see 
 the old boat — maybe you remember?' — well, 
 the old boat sort of lifted herself at the psycho- 
 logical moment and chucked us in where we be- 
 115 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 longed. Nasty place out there. My 1 You Ve 
 got a grip on you ! My back 's as lame as after 
 a house match at ' The Hill.' " 
 
 "Did you go to Harrow?" asked Cloud. 
 " So did I — I was in Sandford's." 
 
 " Well, I was in Bailey's. We licked you 
 three years running when I was in the house. 
 Not because I was in it, of course. By the 
 way, you 're not contemplating doing anything 
 like that again, are you? You see I couldn't 
 guarantee that it would come exactly the same 
 way." 
 
 Cloud smiled a wan smile. 
 
 " I give you my word," he answered simply, 
 " as a fellow Harrorian, not to make a fool of 
 myself again." 
 
 He held out his hand again. Micky took it, 
 and looked him in the eye. 
 
 "Honor bright?" he asked. 
 
 "Honor bright!" replied Cloud. 
 
 " Thanks," said Micky. " By the way, you 
 might drop up to the wireless house any time 
 you feel a bit off your peck. I 'm there most 
 of the time, especially evenings. I ought to 
 tell you, right now, that I inadvertently over- 
 heard your little talk last evening with Mrs. 
 ii6 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Trevelyan. However, that 's all behind us." 
 
 Cloud looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 " You heard all we said? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so," answered Micky lightly. 
 " Of course none of it is my business, so long as 
 you don't try to deprive us of your company! 
 She 's a very circumspect lady, Mrs. Trevel- 
 yan ! But take it from me, there 's no place on 
 an ocean liner to discuss private matters except 
 on the end of the bowsprit or in the crow's nest 1 
 Even there some old woman from Putney 
 would probably get on to what you were saying 
 by reading your lips." 
 
 He handed Cloud the key to the state-room. 
 Cloud received it without comment, his innate 
 English distaste for any display of emotion 
 struggling with his genuine gratitude to Micky. 
 Turning his back he put the key into the lock 
 and, as he fumbled with it, he jerked out 
 awkwardly a few disconnected phrases that 
 contained among others the words: 
 
 " Awfully obliged — what you did last night. 
 Really didn't know what I was doing. — 
 Never forget it. — Must think me a damn 
 coward. Try to explain it all some time. — 
 Feeling down and out." 
 117 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Don't mention it, old chap ! " chirped 
 Micky. " We all make asses of ourselves oc- 
 casionally. Now I 've got to deliver a few 
 radios, but I '11 see you at lunch and maybe to- 
 night you will come up and smoke a pipe with 
 me?" 
 
 Cloud nodded and kept on fumbling with the 
 key, while Micky, glad to escape, and fully 
 confident that, for the time being at least, any 
 danger of the attempt being repeated was over, 
 hastened away to the purser's office with his 
 Marconigrams — among them the one for Mrs. 
 Trevelyan. 
 
 The purser looked suspiciously at him as he 
 shoved the yellow slips under the grating, but 
 Micky wore an air of entire unconcern. 
 
 " A little slow in transmission," said the Mar- 
 coni man casually, " but the fact is I was done 
 up and slept right through until this minute. 
 However, I 've dated 'em all this A. M. And 
 anyhow nobody can get off this bloomin' boat 
 a minute sooner than New York, — that 's 
 sure! " 
 
 The purser gave him a look of disgust. 
 
 " By Gad, you 're a rum 'un I " he remarked 
 fiercely, although Micky was a perennial joy to 
 ii8 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 him. " I wonder you last a day — can hold 
 your job a minute — with your infernal cheek 
 and indifference ! I bet you get the sack once 
 and for all at the end of the voyage." He 
 glanced over the radios. " One for Mrs. Tre- 
 velyan, too I " he added ruefully. " Oh, you 'd 
 make an angel weep, you would I " 
 
 " Go on, Shylock I " growled Micky, stick- 
 ing out his tongue at him. " Can you change 
 me tuppence ha'penny? I wouldn't have your 
 little * dot and carry one ' job if they rated me 
 with the ship's surgeon I " 
 
 And he retreated to the scullery for a cup of 
 coffee while the purser marked the charges and 
 turned over the radios to the reading-room 
 steward for delivery, 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan had returned to her room 
 and was gazing abstractedly out of the open 
 window in a dim cloud of cigarette smoke. 
 The news of Roakby's murder had quite un- 
 nerved her. She had known him well, before 
 her Trevelyan days, — too well for her own 
 good. That he should have been put out of the 
 way was no great loss either to her or to society 
 at large. But that Cosmo Graeme — her 
 friend — whose father's house she had visited 
 8 119 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 for weeks at a time, should be his murderer — 
 liable to instant arrest — and (she shuddered) 
 to be hung — ! Could she sit calmly by and 
 do nothing for him? See him run down and 
 caught without raising a finger? Yet what 
 could she do ? Was not the information in the 
 possession of the ship's officers ? She imagined 
 them already in cold, impassive conference, de- 
 bating as to whether it were better to arrest 
 him now and put him in irons or wait until the 
 ship should near the land and he could be 
 turned over at once to the civil authorities. 
 Cosmo Graeme — the youngest of a quartet of 
 handsome, chivalrous brothers I Cosmo — 
 the darling of the smartest set in England! 
 How could he have ! And then it came to her 
 that perhaps Micky had not yet told the Cap- 
 tain. That perhaps she could persuade him to 
 hold his peace and keep the matter secret un- 
 til, at least, she could try and think what to do. 
 And as she wondered, she puffed her cigarette 
 faster and faster until it burnt her lips and she 
 hastily threw it down. Yes, she must find 
 Micky at once and use all her powers to induce 
 him to become her ally. 
 
 " Marconigram for you, madam." 
 1 20 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The jeading-room steward touched his cap 
 smilingly as he handed it to her. Impatiently 
 she tore open the paper. 
 
 " Government inspectors wise to your neck- 
 lace." 
 
 She stared at it helplessly. Wise to her neck- 
 lace I How could they? Her necklace ? Im- 
 possible! It was just a joke of Trevelyan'sl 
 No, he never would have taken that amount of 
 trouble for a joke! The Roakby affair faded 
 out of her mind under the stress of this new 
 and unexpected complication I She set her lips 
 indignantly. She was sure the Government 
 could n't treat its citizens in any such despicable 
 fashion. Trevelyan was a ninny, — an old 
 woman! What did he mean by wiring her? 
 Was it to advise her to declare the necklace and 
 make herself liable to a duty of some thirty 
 thousand dollars, or was it simply to give her 
 the tip that extra precautions would be neces- 
 sary to smuggle it safely in? That was it, 
 probably. Why, he 'd whine for six months if 
 he had to pay all that money 1 And he 'd make 
 her life miserable into the bargain. She crum- 
 pled the paper in her hand and tossed it into the 
 scrap basket — where it was promptly found 
 
 121 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 and read by Mrs. Dorrance within the hour. 
 
 Lily Trevelyan hurried back again to the 
 wireless house. How foolish she had been not 
 to act sooner and stop Micky before the dam- 
 age had been done. Now it was probably too 
 late. 
 
 She found him playing shuffle-board with the 
 little hunchback who, used to kindness from all 
 the world, greeted her with a smile, but she 
 glanced at him quite coldly and to his surprise 
 addressed herself to Micky with an imperative, 
 " I must speak with you at once. You '11 find 
 me at the stern." And Micky, yielding the 
 game by default, promised shortly to return, 
 quite to the satisfaction of his cheerful little 
 friend, who regarded him with awe and admira- 
 tion and thought him the most wonderful per- 
 son on the seven seas. 
 
 Micky found Mrs. Trevelyan awaiting him 
 on the bench where he had sat and watched 
 Cloud's colorless face the night before, and her 
 face, too, was pale and her chin quivered, and 
 her hands in their fresh white kid gloves 
 clasped and unclasped themselves in her lap, as 
 she turned to him and asked with unconcealed 
 anxiety: 
 
 122 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Have you told anybody about Roakby?" 
 
 Micky had never seen her like that — with- 
 out her mask of light frivolity and teasing insin- 
 cerity, and he liked her better than he ever had 
 before. 
 
 " No, Mrs. Trevelyan," he replied. " Why 
 do you ask? " 
 
 " Because if you have n't I want you to prom- 
 ise me that you won't — at any rate not for a 
 few days, I can't explain. Only something 
 very terrible may happen if you do. Please 
 don't ask me. I can't think to-day. When I 
 — when I read it over your shoulder in the 
 wireless house it bowled me out or I 'd have 
 waked you. I know I 'd no business to read it, 
 of course, but now it 's done. Please promise 
 me you '11 keep it to yourself." 
 
 She raised a serious, sweet face to his and 
 laid a beseeching hand upon his blue sleeve. 
 He felt a quick pang of compunction for his 
 unworthy thoughts of her. Was it possible 
 that this woman was anything but noble ? Had 
 he not done her an injustice? Was there 
 anything but entire unselfishness In this tense 
 appeal directed towards the saving of a 
 friend ? 
 
 123 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Yes," he answered slowly, " I '11 promise 
 you that — if you want — " 
 
 He hesitated. But anything save frankness 
 was utterly abhorrent to him. 
 
 " I might as well tell you," he added simply, 
 " I overheard your talk with Cloud, that is, 
 with Graeme, last night. " I could n't help it. 
 I was just above you on the deck-house." 
 
 " Then you knowf " she asked quietly. 
 
 " The same as you," he nodded. " I got it 
 off Poldhu half an hour before you came aft. 
 It 's a bad mix up. They 're sure to pinch him 
 at quarantine. And I '11 never be able to cut it 
 all out. It must be the biggest story in Eng- 
 land ! Cosmo Graeme ! Why, I 've always 
 heard of Cosmo Graeme! He stroked the 
 eight at Oxford, did n't he ? Give him up ? 
 No — I won't give him up ! Not for an old 
 Ponsonby, or Scotland Yard, or the whole Mar- 
 coni Company ! " 
 
 " Oh, Micky ! " she cried, her face flushing. 
 " What a brick you are! " — It will be our se- 
 cret, won't it ? We '11 not tell a soul ! Give 
 me your hand on it." 
 
 She gave him her hand and Micky took it in 
 his freckled paw and held it for a moment, and 
 124 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 something coursed from her veins into his and 
 made him tremble so that he let it drop. 
 
 "Good-by, Micky!" she .whispered. "Re- 
 member ! " 
 
 " Good-by," he answered, his heart beating 
 a little faster. " I 'm not likely to forget I " 
 
 He stood there alone after she had gone with 
 a strange feeling of exhilaration in all his body. 
 The hand that had held hers still tingled from 
 her clasp and his heart seemed somehow to 
 have expanded like a toy balloon. 
 
 " My God! " he thought. " A woman like 
 that could make you do anything ! " 
 
 He waited for a long time watching the gulls, 
 which without a quiver of their wings hung 
 poised above the rail, and, by some unknown 
 and unascertainable power of flight, were borne 
 along through the air effortless, motionless save 
 when a sudden gust deflected them for a moment 
 from their angle of incidence, only to resume 
 it instantly again and demonstrate how little man 
 really knows of the secret laws of physical na- 
 ture — to say nothing of the more complex 
 mysteries of a woman's soul. And as he 
 watched them and looked once more into the 
 foaming whirlpool behind the stern he remem- 
 125 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 bered with a strange revulsion of feeling his 
 dream of the early morning and how the 
 " Tove " had clasped him in her arras with a 
 glittering, silvery laugh and drawn him over the 
 side and down into the stinging depths, and he 
 was still struggling in her embrace when the 
 notes of " Roast Beef of Old England " re- 
 called him to the reality of an empty stomach 
 and his onerous duties as an officer who ranked 
 the barber and the head second-cabin steward. 
 
 126 
 
IX 
 
 IN WHICH MICKY HEARS A CONFESSION AND IS 
 FORCED TO DELIVER AN UNFORTUNATE MESSAGE. 
 
 UP in the wireless house that night Micky 
 was kept on the jump until a late hour. 
 There were more than a dozen commercials 
 of all sorts. The situation diplomatique con- 
 tinued to get graver and graver ; there were de- 
 tailed accounts of the temporary disposition of 
 Brother John's remains and his proposed for- 
 mal interment, and conflicting items of in- 
 formation as to the stock market, owing to 
 the Moroccan crisis. He dutifully jotted it all 
 down and with ears hungry for English news 
 waited for the "ZZ — ZZ — ZZ " from 
 Poldhu. At last it came and Micky grasped 
 his pencil firmly and began to write as the man 
 in the shirt sleeves in Cornwall threw the leap- 
 ing current at him through the ether. 
 
 " Press - for - transmission - only - stop - con - 
 sols - off - one-half - per - centum - stop - Lloyd - 
 George - down - with - severe - cold - interferes - 
 127 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 with - speaking - stop - Germany - replies ■ 
 France's - ultimatum - by - counter - proposi ■ 
 tion - generally - regarded - as - substantial ■ 
 compliance - stop - Tony - Burke - known - as ■ 
 The - Southdown - Slugger - knocks - out - 
 Jimmy - Devereux - at - Birmingham - in - four ■ 
 teen - rounds - stop - Bombardier - says - he ■ 
 will - certainly - defeat - Johnson - if - allowed ■ 
 to - fight - in - England - stop - Lord - North ■ 
 cote - injured - by - fall - while - hunting - stop - 
 Mrs. - Roberta - Menges - Corwin - Hill - sent ■ 
 to - Tombs - prison - in - New - York - City ■ 
 for - attempting - to - smuggle - jewelry • 
 through - customs - stop - vigorous - effort - on ■ 
 part - of - United - States - Government - to - 
 prevent - violations - of - tariff - law - stop - de ■ 
 falcation - in - London - branch - of - Royal • 
 Bank - of - Edinburgh - amounting - to - over - 
 five - thousand - pounds - confidential - clerk ■ 
 who - mysteriously - disappeared - last - week - 
 now - known - to - be - embezzler - thought - to ■ 
 be - on - liner - to - America - description - tall ■ 
 clean - shaven - blue - eyes - brown - hair - hoi ■ 
 low - cheeks - aquiline - nose - last - seen - Paris ■ 
 in - company - young - woman - stop - no - trace • 
 of - whereabouts - of - Cosmo - Graeme- 
 128 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 fourth - son - of - Lord - Varricks - Marquis - 
 of - Conyngfort - still - believed - to - be - mid - 
 ocean - stop - details - Roakby - murder - still - 
 concealed - stop - funeral - today - Castle - 
 Ruyn - Waterford - Hants - Scotland - Yard- 
 requests - thorough - search - all - Atlantic - 
 steamships - and - report - at - governments - 
 expense - stop - Lord - Varricks - prostrated - 
 stop. — " 
 
 There was a knock on the door of the wire- 
 less house. 
 
 " Come in ! " shouted Micky, and went on 
 taking as Cloud entered hesitatingly and stopped 
 just inside the door. 
 
 " — Greatest - excitement - prevails - in - 
 England - where - alleged - murderer - was- 
 popular - in - high - society - stop." 
 
 " Hearing all about you," remarked Micky 
 shortly, as he waved his visitor towards the 
 bunk with his disengaged hand. 
 
 Cloud nodded. He looked more gaunt and 
 hopeless than ever. Micky pushed a box of 
 cigarettes in his direction and Cloud lighted 
 one while the Marconi man continued to take 
 down a miscellaneous assortment of informa- 
 tion which, with its repetition, occupied another 
 129 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 twenty-five minutes. During this period both 
 sat mute. 
 
 " Stop," said Poldhu suddenly, and sent no 
 more. 
 
 The man on the cliff, Micky knew, was 
 knocking the ashes out of his pipe and snapping 
 off the green electric light preparatory to turn- 
 ing in. The air was quiet, except for the Ho- 
 henlohe, which was trying to flash a belated 
 commercial over the Pavonia to the Berlin. 
 
 " MPA de DKV "— " MPA de DKV "— 
 " MPA de DKV "— " Warum antwortest du 
 nicht?" ("Why do you not answer?") in- 
 sisted the Hohenlohe. 
 
 Then he tried the Pavonia, but Micky shut 
 off his coherer, threw his receiver on the desk, 
 and took one of the cigarettes from the box 
 with a grunt of disgust. 
 
 " Let him holler ! " he mumbled. 
 
 "Who?" asked Cloud. 
 
 "That chap on the Hohenlohe! " answered 
 Micky. " He 's one of those conscientious fel- 
 lers that never sleep. Well, how do you 
 feel?" 
 
 Cloud puffed nervously at his cigarette, tried 
 to answer, and looked helplessly at Micky. Ut- 
 130 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 ter despair was written in the lines of his mouth 
 and forehead. Finally he said in dead tones : 
 
 " I might just as well have done for myself 
 last night. That 's better than — being caught 
 and — " (he hesitated), "brought back." 
 
 " Oh, Tommy rot 1 " retorted Micky, " A 
 live dog 's better than a dead lion ! You 're a 
 long way from Bow Street yet. Lots of things 
 can happen before we reach New York." 
 
 Cloud shook his head. 
 
 " Nothing can happen," he replied. " No 
 matter what comes, I 'm done for I You say 
 you heard my talk with Mrs. Trevelyan and 
 so of course you must know I 'm Cosmo 
 Graeme, a fugitive from justice, a man charged 
 with murder 1 " 
 
 He dropped his cigarette on the floor and 
 crunched It out with his heel. 
 
 " Why, yes — • of course I know that," an- 
 swered Micky In a conversational tone. "You 
 can't conceal yourself on the Atlantic Ocean, my 
 friend ! It 's worse than Broadway or Regent 
 Street. Now / should never think of trying to 
 hide on a ship — If they spot you, there you 
 are. You should have thought of that before 
 you got on board." 
 
 131 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The man on the bunk pressed his temples 
 with the palms of his hands. 
 
 " Look here," he said. " You did a damn 
 decent thing last night. I may be sorry now 
 you did n't let me fling myself in, but that 's 
 over and done with. I Ve given you my word 
 not to try it again and I won't. I understand 
 you 've got the news I 'm wanted for Roakby's 
 murder and Mrs. Trevelyan says you 're going 
 to hold it back. I don't know why. I don't 
 ask. I can't think. All I know is that just as 
 I was going to do a cowardly act you stopped 
 me. And, now, when I might be chucked into 
 irons and held up as a murderer to the whole 
 ship's company — you come along and rescue 
 me again! " 
 
 "Rather interesting, isn't it?" said Micky 
 easily. 
 
 " You 've saved my life," continued Cloud, 
 "and — I wanted you to know I wasn't the 
 ordinary sort of criminal." 
 
 " I did n't suppose you were," remarked 
 Micky. " Considering what I — what com- 
 mon report said about — the other fellow." 
 
 "The beast!" 
 
 Cloud shook both his fists. 
 132 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Was he ? " asked Micky. " Tell me about 
 it." 
 
 Cloud took another cigarette and the match 
 with which he lit it cast great shadows in the 
 hollows of his cheeks. He rose and paced up 
 and down the little room as if trying to find 
 the right beginning. Outside, the night was 
 opaquely dark and a strong breeze made it im- 
 possible for him to be overheard by any stray 
 loiterer on the deck. 
 
 " Begin with me — and then how it hap- 
 pened, later," he jerked out. " Cosmo Graeme, 
 of Harrow and Oxford. My father is Lord 
 Varricks — I 'm the fourth son — our place is 
 down in Hampshire — Parsley Croft, they call 
 it." It seemed hard for him to force the words 
 from his lips. " We 're a hunting lot. Keep 
 our own hounds. Always a crowd of people at 
 the house. You know the kind of people — 
 Mrs. Trevelyan used to be one of them. What 
 they call the best people in England ! " His 
 lips curled. 
 
 " Well, this beast Roakby used to be one of 
 
 them too. He was a friend of my father. 
 
 There weeks at a time. Came when he pleased 
 
 and had the run of the house. One of those 
 
 133 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 ingratiating scoundrels that simply hypnotize the 
 women. He lived all over — had a shooting 
 in Hungary and an apartment in Paris, and a 
 villa at Monte Carlo. You know the type. A 
 married man that did n't live with his wife, arid 
 had n't any children." 
 
 Cloud ran his hands through his hair and his 
 voice rose in higher key. 
 
 " You know what some country houses are. 
 You 've read about 'em in the magazines and 
 weeklies, I suppose. Well, ours was n't very 
 different from the ones you read about. But 
 Roakby made a point of what he called being a" 
 gentleman — a gentleman! " 
 
 Cloud turned suddenly upon Micky and 
 grabbed him by the shoulders and his words 
 came grating forth in a hoarse series of cries. 
 
 " What would have you have done — if this 
 beast — this cur — O God ! " He gave a dry 
 sob. " Our sister — our little sister — fifteen 
 — Man I Think of it ! — The degradation 
 of it! The foul swine! My brother Basil 
 came running into the billiard-room, looking 
 like a ghost. ' Cosmo, come here,' he said in a 
 queer voice, and dragged me into the corner by 
 the observatory. Then he told me. It made 
 134 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 me actually sick. Oh, the swine! The 
 swine ! " 
 
 He was wailing, this full-grown man, 
 " Harold and Frank were somewhere about, 
 smoking. It was a week ago Sunday. Harold 
 all but fainted. Frank wanted to kill him at 
 once. He was quite insane, I think. But Basil 
 said he must die quietly — there could be no 
 explanation. We could see him from where we 
 stood, walking around on the lawn with my 
 father! Basil told us to go into the billiard- 
 room and sent for some brandy. Then he 
 locked both doors and took down from over the 
 mantelpiece the sword of old Roland de 
 Pleinpalais — a founder of our house. It has 
 a cross for a handle, and the sun was shining 
 on it through the window. Basil stood it up on 
 its point between us and we all laid our hands 
 on it and swore to kill Roakby. Then he took 
 the helmet that goes with the sword and put 
 four slips of paper in it with a cross on one of 
 them — I drew it. Then we talked it all over 
 calmly enough. I was to go to him and give 
 him his choice of either doing it himself or 
 being executed — that was all. That night 
 after all the guests had gone to bed, I found 
 9 135 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 him smoking in his room and drinking whisky 
 and soda." 
 
 " ' Hello, Cosmo, old chap,' he said, smirk- 
 ing at me. Then he saw something was up and 
 turned white. 
 
 " I told him he must kill himself or the mat- 
 ter would be taken out of his hands. He turned 
 yellow — yellow — and knocked the glass of 
 whisky on to the floor. He could n't speak. 
 
 " ' No,' he said. ' No I — It 's a joke, isn't 
 it, Cosmo ? ' 
 
 " ' Joke, you swine ! ' I cried. ' Have you a 
 pistol ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes,' he said. But he lied. He had n't 
 one. 
 
 " ' Give me twenty-four hours to settle my 
 affairs,' he whined. 
 
 " ' We '11 give you till to-morrow noon,' I 
 answered. ' If it is n't done then — we '11 do 
 it for you.' 
 
 " I waited near his door all night, but noth- 
 ing happened. There was a hunt next day and 
 everybody was in the field. We mounted 
 Roakby on an old broken-winded roan that 
 dropped behind inside the first three fields. I 
 136 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 clung to him. He saw it and could hardly sit 
 his horse. 
 
 " ' Well,' I said, riding alongside of him. 
 
 " He was shaking like a leaf. 
 
 " ' Cosmo I ' he stammered. ' You don't 
 mean it, man ? ' 
 
 " I put my hand in my pocket and handed him 
 my own pistol — a fool thing. 
 
 " ' You see that copse ? ' I said to him. ' Get 
 off your horse and go in there.' 
 
 " He got off and almost fell, but he took the 
 pistol and went staggering into the trees. 
 
 " I waited but again nothing happened. I 
 must have stood there ten minutes. Then I 
 tied the horse and went in after him. The cur 
 was leaning against a tree and the pistol was 
 on the ground beside him. He simply could n't 
 do it. When he saw me he began to swear just 
 to keep his courage up. 
 
 " ' Well? ' I said. ' Will you or shall I?' 
 
 " Then all of a sudden he made a dive for the 
 pistol, and rushed at me with a kind of scream, 
 and in the struggle it went off and killed him. 
 / didn't fire it; but that was a mere accident, 
 for I would have. Only, as it happened, he 
 137 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 shot himSiilf — without intending to. I led the 
 roan into the trees and rode after the hunt and 
 told Basil what had occurred. He said that on 
 no account must I stay in England because any 
 defense would involve our sister. So I 'm 
 here. Hunted like a real murderer. I can 
 never tell my side of the case and if they get 
 me — as they 're bound to — they '11 hang me 
 — just as they would Jack the Ripper. It 's a 
 pretty story, is n't it. A fine story for England ! 
 Now is it better for Cosmo Graeme to disap- 
 pear quietly? 
 
 " That 's tow It happened. There 's noth- 
 ing more to tell. We even agreed not to let 
 my father know. After all, the swine was 
 dead! So I went to Paris and from there to 
 Madrid and so on down to Gibraltar where I 
 came aboard. There is a man who followed 
 me all the way from Paris — with a woman. 
 They sit at your table — Bennett is the name 
 they go under. I have a horrible feeling 
 they 're trailing me. But they did n't have me 
 arrested — . I don't know I But when you 
 stumbled over me yesterday I began to think 
 I was making myself too conspicuous by my 
 absence." (He gave a flicker of a smile.) 
 138 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " That 's why I turned up. But then I saw 
 that man there and — then Lily Trevelyan saw 
 me — and well — I just could n't stand it — 
 that 's all ! I 'm done for. I can never go 
 back to England! Dear, rotten old England! 
 My hfe's over!" 
 
 He stopped and wiped his eyes which had 
 filled with tears, and Micky could see what it 
 had cost him to tell the story. 
 
 " Not over yet ! " answered Micky, laying 
 his hand on Cloud's shoulder. " You may be 
 done as Cosmo Graeme, but there 's many a 
 good man who 's gone on living and done use- 
 ful work under some other name than his own. 
 You give me a chance to think it over. Maybe 
 I can think something up before we reach New 
 York. . . . And thank you for telling me." 
 
 He held out his hand and Micky shook it 
 silently. 
 
 " Good night," he said, opening the door. 
 
 " Good night," answered Cloud. He could 
 say no more. 
 
 Micky returned to his seat at the desk and 
 
 sat there for a long time in what is commonly 
 
 described as a brown study, but in his case it 
 
 was, or would have been by daylight, rather a 
 
 139 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 study in red, for his face and forehead were 
 burning, and now that Cloud had gone he gave 
 way to the indignation that the story had in- 
 spired in" him. The calm despair in which 
 Cloud had finished it filled his eyes with tears. 
 It was true — the man's life was done — save 
 in some other country under some other name 
 — (the talk of the Algerian from Sai-bel- 
 Abbas came into his mind) — in Oran perhaps 
 as one of the legion of dare-devils made famous 
 by their reckless bravery against the Moslems. 
 Why not ? Only men who had nothing to lose 
 by death could cope with men who believed 
 that they could not die unless Fate has so or- 
 dained. 
 
 He looked out into the night, but its 
 thick blackness gave him no consolation. 
 There was no way of escape — Cloud was 
 caught like a rat in a pit. Once the ship reached 
 quarantine the officers would swarm over the 
 side and go through her as with a finetooth 
 comb, and they would find Cloud and recognize 
 him, as easily and certainly as they would find 
 Mrs. Trevelyan should they want her. There 
 was no mistaking him. And his conduct — 
 his prolonged absence from the dining-room at 
 140 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 first — his solitary habits — 'his unresponsive- 
 ness had already made him the subject of dis- 
 cussion and criticism on the part of the other 
 second-cabin passengers. It would have needed 
 very little to make him the object of suspicion 
 as well. 
 
 Micky lit his pipe and shook his head. No 
 matter how he projected his mind forward he 
 could see no way out of It for Cloud. He 
 would be under arrest before the Pavonia was 
 off Fire Island, and safe on a steamer bound 
 for England inside twenty-four hours. And 
 then what? A quick trial in which there would 
 be no defense, but where the court room would 
 be crowded like a royal levee with peeresses in 
 their own right and all the importunate dis- 
 tinguished women in London society — come 
 to see Cosmo Graeme caught and killed, like 
 a cotton-tail dragged out of a hole with a fer- 
 ret clinging to his throat — and cracked on the 
 back of the neck with a gamekeeper's stick! 
 Oh, they 'd be there, and all the pompous 
 panoply of the law would be Invoked to Impress 
 the jury and the public that English justice 
 struck swiftly and with an iron hand — peer, 
 peer's son and commoner alike — that in fact 
 141 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 it took a peculiar pleasure in being able to don 
 the black cap and sentence the son of a marquis 
 to be hanged — particularly one who had been 
 so foolish as to try to escape from its grasp. 
 Micky had sat through two days of it once 
 and now it all came back to him in the night. 
 He saw the jury whispering to one another in 
 the box — ' carefully dressed men from the city 
 in braided cutaways and " dickies." He saw 
 Graeme sitting by the rail with his counsel, 
 the center of attraction and comment, and the 
 bevy of powdered women in picture hats with 
 their escorts, most of whom had played tennis 
 and croquet with the prisoner and whose hearts 
 were torn with excruciating pity for poor dear 
 Cosmo, but who would n't have missed his trial 
 for anything in the world. He heard the usher 
 tap on the jury box and cry " Oyez ! Oyez ! " 
 and the crisp rustle of black gowns as the three 
 judges came swinging in with long noses a bit 
 in air followed by the King's Counsel, a lean 
 barrister with a wig slightly askew who strode 
 after them like a thoroughbred led out for a 
 warm-up. It angered him, the affected uncon- 
 cern of these officers of the Crown, — as if they 
 did n't know it was the most screamingly sensa- 
 142 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 tional thing in England, this trial of Cosmo 
 Graeme for the murder of the Earl of Roakby. 
 That cursed K. C. acting as though he were 
 going in to bat for his house at some school 
 cricket game. . . . Then he was aware of a 
 momentary flutter and of the clerk conferring 
 with the presiding judge. 
 
 " Is the jury satisfactory? " Micky seemed to 
 hear the latter asking. 
 
 " Perfectly, me lud." 
 
 " Yes, me lud." 
 
 Then through the haze of his pipe smoke 
 he had a dim vision of the end of this human 
 hunt. He heard the Chief Justice blow his 
 nose, saw him throw back the hood of his gown, 
 and listened while he proceeded to expound to 
 the impressed and awe-stricken jury the law of 
 England, which was that Cosmo Graeme, the 
 prisoner at the bar, had not a leg to stand on 
 and that on the evidence they were obliged to 
 return a verdict of guilty of murder, and that 
 he so charged, — and that they might retire to 
 deliberate. 
 
 He saw the usher open the gate, and the jury, 
 looking very much frightened, file slowly out, 
 leaving the prisoner in his place, his head in 
 143 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 his hands. He saw the judges chatting among 
 themselves and the K. C. stroll up to the bench 
 and compliment the Chief Justice upon his 
 masterly summing up. 
 
 " Not at all ! Not at all, Mr. Willets ! " he 
 heard the Chief Justice say in a loud voice. 
 Then he heard the usher pound again on the 
 rail and saw the jury come filing in with averted 
 heads. He noticed that some of them stumbled 
 as they walked and the foreman's mouth 
 quivered as he faced the judges. 
 
 " We find the defendant — " the foreman 
 paused and swallowed — " guilty — of mur- 
 der." 
 
 " Record the verdict," he heard the Chief 
 Justice say approvingly. " The jury find the 
 defendant, Cosmo Graeme, guilty of murder. 
 The jury may take their seats." 
 
 Then Micky heard the Chief Justice blow his 
 nose again and the room was hushed into ex- 
 pectant silence as the jury sank shakily into 
 their seats. He saw the judge wait until the 
 stillness was absolute and then place a ridicu- 
 lous small black cap upon the top of his wig, 
 and the usher motion to Graeme to arise. 
 
 " Cosmo Graeme — you have been lawfully 
 144 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 convicted by a jury of your peers of the crime 
 of murder. Have you anything to say why 
 judgment should not be pronounced against 
 you?" 
 
 " No, my lord," he heard Graeme reply In a 
 low voice. 
 
 " Cosmo Graeme," he heard the judge con- 
 tinue, " the sentence of the Court Is that you 
 be carried from hence to the place from whence 
 you came and from thence to the place of execu- 
 tion, and that the sheriff shall do execution upon 
 you sometime between sunrise and sunset and 
 that you shall be hung by the neck until you are 
 dead — " 
 
 There was a knock at Micky's door and the 
 picture conjured up by his reverie was rudely 
 shattered. By some trick of telepathy, perhaps, 
 this unnerved man had been drawn back again 
 to the wireless house. 
 
 " I saw your light still burning and I came 
 back," he said. " I can't sleep. You don't 
 know what torture It is to lie in one of those 
 state-rooms, staring at the ceiling hour after 
 hour. I thought maybe if you had any work 
 to do you 'd let me stay here with you." 
 
 " Sure thing," answered Micky. " Sit down 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 and have a pipe, while I see what that Dutch 
 idiot on the Hohenlohe was after." 
 
 Cloud took a pipe from his pocket and filled 
 it while Micky connected up his detector and 
 put the receiver to his ears. Sure enough the 
 German was still at it — signaling frantically. 
 
 "MPA de DKV — MPA de DKV — CQ 
 — CQ — CQ — CQ — CQ — CQ — " . 
 
 " DSN de MPA," answered Micky, " K — 
 K — K— " 
 
 " MPA de DKV," shouted the German, " T 
 R" (time rush)— "MSG" (Commercial 
 rtiessage) — "Time now 1.15, one message." 
 
 " DKV de MPA," replied Micky. " Time 
 O.K. ,G.A." (send when ready). 
 
 " MPA de DKV," retorted the Hohenlohe. 
 " O.K. - thanks - radio - via - Hohenlohe - 
 Umberto - Pr'tmo - Casa - Blanca - message - 
 No. - I - thirty-five - words - Ponsonby - Cap - 
 tain - Pavonia - you - are - herewith - ordered - 
 in - comphance - request - Scotland - Yard - to - 
 search - your - ship - for - escaped - criminal - 
 described - press - despatches - Poldhu - and- 
 report - direct - to - company's - office - Liver - 
 pool - via - Casablanca - for - the - company - 
 Hammersley." 
 
 146 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The man on the Hohenlohe stopped send- 
 ing and Micky threw him a " Thanks. Good 
 night," but he felt no thanks. On the contrary 
 a great and horrible fear stole over him and 
 turned his forehead cold. So the game was up ! 
 There would be no lapse of time in which to 
 devise a way of escape for the man who sat 
 there so helplessly, clinging to him like a child 
 without a mother. 
 
 " I 've got to deliver it ! " muttered Micky. 
 " I 've got to deliver it, and when I do the jig 
 will be up ! " 
 
 He looked stupidly at Cloud. Could this be 
 the end? Had he hauled him back for this? 
 Saved his life to have it snatched away again? 
 
 "What is it?" asked the other. "Any- 
 thing important ? " 
 
 "So — so," answered Micky. "The Cu- 
 nard Company have ordered the Captain to 
 search the ship for you, — and I 've got to de- 
 liver the message to-morrow morning." 
 
 147 
 
X 
 
 MRS. TREVELYAN MAKES AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT 
 AND THE CAPTAIN SCORES. 
 
 A GENTLE southern breeze, warmed by 
 the bright rays of the September sun, 
 fanned Mrs. Trevelyan's straying yellow curls 
 as she sat outside the door of her state-room 
 and idly turned the pages of the European edi- 
 tion — without the advertisements — ■ of an 
 American monthly. Somehow the loss of bulk 
 in her usual slice of current literature gave her a 
 sense of being defrauded. It was not that she 
 enjoyed the contents less, but she missed all 
 those ingenious devices to capture her jaded 
 attention, the humor of the phraseology of the 
 Yankee " ad," and the ofttimes startling repre- 
 sentations of ladies and gentlemen in divers 
 stages of undress and dishabille that peeped at 
 her from between the leaves. Sometimes she 
 recognized her own photograph, thinly dis- 
 guised, advertising a cigar, a cold cream or a 
 148 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 hair tonic. She had no objection to this, and 
 in fact rather enjoyed it. It was one of the 
 misfortunes or prerogatives (whichever way 
 you choose to regard it) of being a public char- 
 acter. 
 
 She had glanced through an article on how 
 to dress alluringly on seven hundred dollars a 
 year and had stigmatized the author as a per- 
 nicious fool. Dress on seven hundred a year? 
 Why, no woman could be decent on less than 
 seven thousand! Then she had skipped over 
 a Yiddish dialect story laid in the lower East 
 Side of New York City and written by a young 
 woman who had never been east of Denver, to 
 sip here and there the sweet insipidity of a love 
 affair In which flossy girls with trim, athletic 
 figures and strong-jawed, manly young men, 
 clean shaven and clad in lower Broadway ready- 
 made suits, dallied together towards legitimate 
 matrimony — although the reader was always 
 in a delicious uncertainty — on yachts and at 
 " Cabarets" in the Tenderloin, along the elm- 
 shaded walks of marvelous Long Island estates, 
 or in the " gun rooms " of English castles. 
 It was very amusing, this mixture of fluff and 
 folly, of lingerie and love, in which the most 
 149 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 reckless, risque situations only led to the most 
 innocent of consequences, and wherein the ex- 
 citement of the reader was relieved by a series 
 of necessary anti-climaxes without which his 
 nerves would certainly have parted company 
 with his self-control. She had read at least 
 twenty such, and she even knew a gentleman — 
 a quiet enough little man — who made sixty 
 thousand a year writing them. Sometimes she 
 thought she would write herself. If she had 
 written herself she would have been the best 
 seller in either England or America. 
 
 She was just about to inform herself as to 
 the habits of the bee — and particularly the 
 queen bee — when a shadow fell across the 
 pages, and Captain Ponsonby, attired in im- 
 maculate uniform and much gold braid, made 
 his appearance at her side. Mrs. Trevelyan 
 thought him a hideous bore but he himself was 
 firmly convinced that he had made a deep im- 
 pression upon her. 
 
 "Good morning, my dear lady!" said the 
 gallant officer. " How fresh you look this 
 morning." 
 
 " And how fresh you are this morning I " 
 Lily murmured to herself, — transforming the 
 150 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 words vocally to " Oh, good morning, Captain 
 Ponsonbyl How you startled me I I was 
 deep in a story." 
 
 " A love story, I '11 be bound," simpered 
 Ponsonby with a grimace intended to be tender 
 but which would in fact have been thoroughly 
 terrifying to an inexperienced person. " I 
 want to propose — " 
 
 " Remember I 'm a married woman," shot 
 back Lily. " It 's not customary — is it — to 
 be so formal in such cases." 
 
 Ponsonby, who was a much-married man 
 with five ill-assorted offspring, blushed furi- 
 ously. 
 
 "I — I — I," he stammered. 
 
 " You — you — you are a very wicked per- 
 son ! " interrupted Lily, shaking her head at 
 him. " What was it you wanted to propose ? " 
 
 The Captain, thus relieved, for he was a 
 ponderous flirt and would have floundered for 
 an hour if left to himself, grinned a fatuous 
 purple grin. 
 
 " I want your bright eyes to help me do some 
 detective work I" he whispered in a hoarse 
 voice. " There may be a criminal on board! " 
 
 Under the veil of her golden smile Lily 
 «o 151 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Trevelyan's radiant color fled. Something had 
 gone wrong — the news had leaked out! 
 Could Micky have tricked her? Could he 
 have endeavored to save her feelings by promis- 
 ing not to do something which he had already 
 done? For an instant she was disinclined to 
 accept such a possibility, then, as it seemed clear 
 to her that there was no other way for the facts 
 to have become known, she decided that Micky 
 had simply taken her in with his childlike, 
 guileless face and made a fool of her. And 
 there leaped into her breast a fierce hatred of 
 him — a hatred as full-blooded and intense as 
 her passion for him had been before — less be- 
 cause of what he had done than because she, 
 whose business in life was deceiving, had been 
 deceived. 
 
 "A criminal?" she repeated innocently. 
 " How interesting! " 
 
 " Yes, — is n't it! Of course he may not be 
 on my ship. But they traced him to the Conti- 
 nent. Perhaps he came aboard at ' Gib.' " 
 The Captain's face betrayed Ill-suppressed ex- 
 citement. 
 
 "What has the poor man done?" asked 
 Lily, putting her finger between the pages 
 152 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 which detailed the matrimonial eccentricities of 
 the queen bee. 
 
 " Ah I " the Captain remarked teasingly with 
 a peculiar and meaning smile. " That would 
 be telling ! However, I '11 say this much, that 
 you would be particularly interested in the case 
 if you knew who the man was and whom he had 
 wronged." 
 
 " You don't mean to suggest that I am 
 personally acquainted with this — criminal!" 
 Lily flashed with simulated indignation. 
 
 Ponsonby smiled again. 
 
 " Perhaps," he said significantly. 
 
 Lily took up her magazine. 
 
 " I don't think you are at all nice," she 
 pouted. " First you ask me to help find a 
 criminal for you, — and then it turns out that 
 you imagine he or she is one of my personal 
 friends. Anyhow, you don't think I 'd turn 
 traitor, do you? My dear Captain Ponsonby, 
 even if there were a murderer on board, and 
 I knew him — I 'd never tell. I won't be a 
 bloodhound, a hawk or a trained panther for 
 you or anybody else." 
 
 All the time she was furiously raging inside 
 at Micky who had thus played her false. And 
 153 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 then it burst upon her I What an Idiot she had 
 been! To think that a common little red- 
 haired beast like Fitzpatrick could or would do 
 the decent thing, when he was, or foolishly 
 fancied that he was. In love with the same girl 
 as Cosmo Graeme. Why, it was his one great 
 chance! Turn Cosmo over to the law and 
 Micky could go on making love to Evelyn Far- 
 quhar and perhaps either persuade her into a 
 vulgar Intrigue or stir up such a scandal that 
 the Earl would be compelled to buy him off. 
 She had seen many a young coachman, many a 
 red-cheeked chauffeur, annex thirty or forty 
 thousand dollars by judiciously tampering with 
 the tender affections of his master's daughter. 
 And as Lily Trevelyan was ready to believe 
 the worst of anybody and did believe the worst 
 of most people, she then and there stigmatized 
 Micky as a rotten little sneak and consigned 
 him to the lowest depths of the inferno. And 
 a deep red slowly surged up her neck and into 
 the roots of her yellow hair as she thought of 
 the pilot-house and Micky asleep at his desk 
 in the blaze of yesterday morning's sun. 
 
 A tiger-like resolve to stand by Cosmo to the 
 last possessed her. If they took him it should 
 154 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 be not because of her but in spite of her. She 
 almost forgot the Captain for the moment, but 
 he answered her question and stood his ground. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Trevelyan," said he reprov- 
 ingly, " I did n't mean to suggest that this 
 criminal might be your friend, — I only said 
 you might know him. That 's an entirely dif- 
 ferent matter, is n't it? You might know Jack 
 Johnson, the prize-fighter, or Nan Patterson, 
 or Oscar Wilde — " 
 
 " What a delightful circle of acquaint- 
 ances ! " laughed Lily, amused in spite of her- 
 self. " If you 'd only throw in Harry Thaw, 
 Tod Sloan, Abe Hummel, and Grand Duke 
 Boris it would be really chic, — a real salon ! " 
 
 The Captain seemed a bit annoyed. 
 
 " You 're a very witty woman," said he 
 stifHy. " I can't argue with you." Theij he 
 added more genially, " But don't you want to 
 stroll around the ship and see what we can do 
 in the Sherlock Holmes line ? " 
 
 It suddenly occurred to Lily that it was con- 
 ceivably possible that if she went with Ponsonby 
 she might somehow be able to divert his at- 
 tention or throw him off the track, so far as 
 Cosmo was concerned. 
 
 155 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Certainly I '11 go with you," she answered 
 quite cordially, getting up and throwing the 
 magazine into the seat of her deck-chair. 
 " Where shall we go ? The forecastle or the 
 rear castle ? — By the way, you have n't told 
 me what your criminal has done." 
 
 " This way — ! " bowed the Captain. 
 " No, Mrs. Trevelyan, I want to give you a 
 little surprise — if we Identify the man. And 
 you will be surprised! If we don't find him 
 on board I '11 tell you all about it, afterwards." 
 
 Feeling that it would be unwise for Cosmo's 
 sake to show too great an interest in either the 
 identity of the criminal or the details of his 
 crime, Lily walked along the deck with the 
 Captain towards the reading-saloon. 
 
 " Extraordinary, isn't it ! " continued Pon- 
 sonby confidentially, " how we are able to 
 keep In constant touch with England? I re- 
 ceive all the news, as you know, every morn- 
 ing. Now this man had no sooner committed 
 his offense than I knew all about It and the di- 
 rectors at once wired me personally to look 
 over the ship and see if I could n't pick out the 
 fellow among the passengers. I won't tell you 
 who he is — but I '11 give you his description 
 ' 156 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 and ask you to help me " (he pulled out a slip 
 of paper and studied It) " ' tall, clean-shaven 
 when last seen, blue eyes, brown hair, hollow 
 cheeks, acquUine nose.' Ought not to be diffi- 
 cult, ought it? There can't be many fellows 
 on hoard all exactly like that, can there? " 
 ' Again Lily felt the blood leave her face. 
 Yes, it was Cosmo fast enough. Micky had 
 played fast and loose with her. He might 
 even have confided to the Captain that she was 
 a friend of Graeme's. No, — If he had done 
 that the Captain would never have talked to 
 her so unconcernedly. Micky, probably, had 
 simply delivered the press news, as she assumed 
 was his duty, and had not held It back as he 
 had promised. Yet he had not been a traitor 
 to the extent of repeating to the Captain the 
 interview between Cosmo and herself at which 
 he had been — as she now believed — a de- 
 liberate eavesdropper. 
 
 " If there Is any one on board who fits the 
 description you will surely have no difficulty in 
 finding him," said Lily. " Where are you go- 
 ing first? " 
 
 " Let 's take a look into the reading-saloon," 
 said Ponsonby, who wanted as many of the pas- 
 157 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 sengers as possible to see personally that he had 
 been honored above all men. He stalked 
 along with her, whispering intimately, and 
 touching his cap in all directions. But there 
 was nobody on deck who fitted the description 
 and in the reading saloon were only the Boston 
 bride and her husband, playing an exclusive 
 game of piquet, three old women who were 
 writing exhaustive narratives in their diaries of 
 the astonishing things one saw on the Champs 
 Elysees and in the Vatican, and an aged man 
 in a gray shawl eating an orange, the odor of 
 which permeated the air and suggested a din- 
 ing-car on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad 
 going through a tunnel. 
 
 " I don't think he 's the one! " giggled Lily; 
 " that is, unless he 's accused of the crime of 
 eating oranges in the closed season." 
 
 " No," answered Ponsonby. " There are 
 no burglars or murderers concealed in here. 
 Let 's take a turn on the second-cabin deck." 
 
 Now it was perhaps a rather peculiar thing 
 that on the promenade deck in all the long line 
 of extended masculine forms there was not one 
 which fitted the very general description re- 
 peated by the Captain. There were flat-nosed 
 158 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 tall men, and pug-nosed short men; there were 
 thin men with aquiline noses and fat men with 
 almost no noses at all; and there was one very 
 aristocratic person whose appearance tallied 
 with the description exactly — only he was the- 
 royal chamberlain of King Gustaf of Sweden. 
 
 As they wended their way among the passen- 
 gers, Lily, as usual, drew the glances of every- 
 body after her. To-day she looked younger 
 than ever and as, owing to the warmth, she had 
 discarded her polo coat, the extraordinary 
 beauty of the lines of her waist and hips were 
 plainly visible to the admiring eyes of all the 
 passengers — only to be truthful and to give 
 her full credit she had no hips — to speak of. 
 And yet she ate everything she wanted, never 
 took any exercise, and did not " roll " each 
 morning before breakfast! 
 
 Lily Trevelyan was an assiduous frequenter 
 of " Jenny's " department at her club on Madi- 
 son Avenue, where that most expert of all 
 masseuses gave her daily attention, and she 
 occasionally walked around the Reservoir in 
 the Park — with some friend of the opposite 
 sex. That was the extent of her regimen. 
 Otherwise she took no thought for her health 
 159 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 or figure. Yet she had a perfect cure for any 
 tendency to put on weight, a guarantee^d recipe 
 for remaining trim and slender, — a recipe 
 which any one of her stout friends at the same 
 club would have given nine-tenths of their for- 
 tunes to possess, well knowing that with a figure 
 such as hers they could recover not only the 
 nine-tenths of their own fortune thus surren- 
 dered but at least one additional fortune be- 
 sides, and perhaps more. What this recipe was 
 I shall not disclose. Some day when Lily Leslie 
 is no longer Lily Trevelyan and the stress of 
 poverty is upon her (which God forbid I) she 
 may perforce have need to open a beauty par- 
 lor or a perfumery shop on Fifth Avenue or 
 elsewhere and this secret will prove as much her 
 fortune as her face was in her younger days. 
 But do not pray for her downfall, ladies! 
 Perhaps — I do not say it — that secret may 
 be simply that you must be one of those fortu- 
 nate persons that Heaven intended to be always 
 slender and trim and hipless. If a quarter 
 inch on the end of Cleopatra's nose would have 
 changed the destinies of Europe, how much of 
 an inch on — well, I shall not go further into 
 this interesting speculation. But I suggest the 
 1 60 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 subject for the serious consideration of Profes- 
 sor Hugo Munsterberg of Harvard University. 
 
 And so this Hebe, this Diana — who was 
 any age you choose and not a day over — 
 walked along with Captain Ponsonby, looking 
 like a woman of thirty, — not because she was 
 good or bad, had lived well or ill, but because 
 It was preordained that a woman just like her 
 should exist, to mix things up on this poor 
 little humdrum globe of ours, and set the slug- 
 gish blood of boot-blacks and butlers, of 
 princes and prize-fighters, of clerks, cab drivers, 
 kings and crossing-sweepers dancing through 
 their veins, and to stimulate them to actions of 
 all sorts — good, bad or Indifferent — just like 
 a cocktail, a sermon or a pint of champagne. 
 Had she wished consistently to do so, Lily 
 Trevelyan could have accomplished more good 
 In the world, have been a greater influence for 
 the elevation of mankind, than a Parkhurst or 
 a Pankhurst, a T. DeWitt Talmage or a T. 
 DeWItt Anybody. But unfortunately she was 
 not consistent, and the wind of her emotions 
 never blew long In the same direction although 
 it often blew at eighty miles an hour. 
 
 Thus they proceeded toward the second- 
 i6i 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 cabin deck and as. luck would have it they had 
 no sooner reached the bottom of the com- 
 panionway than they met Cosmo Graeme face 
 to face. He was crossing from the deck-house 
 to the windbreak and coming straight towards 
 them, and so unexpected was the encounter 
 that instinctively he raised his hand to his hat 
 and bowed to Lily, who gasped, flushed and 
 drew back. 
 
 Captain Ponsonby grasped her arm tight, 
 if tenderly, as Cosmo hurried by them with- 
 out speaking. 
 
 "That's our man!" he whispered tensely. 
 " The very man! You saw how he recognized 
 you. Fits the description to a T." 
 
 But in the single moment required for the 
 Captain to formulate this very obvious judg- 
 ment Lily Trevelyan had recovered herself. 
 
 " I 'm sorry to upset your theory. Captain 
 Ponsonby," she rephed in her usual bantering 
 tone, " but I never saw that mournful-looking 
 person before in my life. I 'm sure if I had, 
 I should remember him — such a ' lean and 
 hungry' Cassius as that! (No, my friend, — 
 he may be a criminal but you can't prove it by 
 me!)" This last sentence was added as a sort 
 162 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 of mental foot-note to the paragraph of her 
 verbal retort. 
 
 But the Captain besides being an English- 
 man, was the czar of his ship, and more than 
 usually obstinate. Besides, he regarded all wo- 
 men as having considerably less intelligence 
 than dogs, — and in his experience the better 
 looking they happened to be the greater fools 
 they were apt to prove. And now having the 
 chance to go down Into history as a man of 
 marvelous perspicacity, he swept Lily Trevel- 
 yan aside and classed her brutally with all 
 the rest of her sex so far as the matter of brains 
 was concerned. 
 
 " I can't help that," he answered, calm In 
 the confidence of his own superiority of in- 
 tellect; "that's our man. When you know 
 more about the case you '11 probably remember 
 him ! — ' even if you don't now." 
 
 Lily bit her lip. Old Purple Nose was not 
 such an ass as she had always taken him for. 
 The game was up. There was nothing she 
 could do now but play for time, and so far as 
 possible prevent Cosmo's Immediate arrest and 
 public disgrace. A wild scheme of hiding him 
 In some nook or closet on the ship and cutting 
 163 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 loose one of the life-boats flashed across her 
 mind. It would be easy enough to bribe some 
 sailor to so create the counterfeit presentment 
 of an escape. But the danger and genuine 
 futility of such a course instantly became 
 obvious to her. No, she must use all her arts 
 to induce the Captain to keep the matter to 
 himself and to delay action until the ship should 
 near the shore. 
 
 They had crossed the second-cabin deck 
 with the apparent object on the Captain's part 
 of asking Cloud's name of the second-cabin 
 steward, when a short way aft of the deck 
 house they encountered Bennett and his sister 
 walking in the opposite direction. This was 
 the first time that Lily had noticed the couple, 
 since there was, to be sure, nothing about them 
 which would have especially attracted her at- 
 tention, but as the man had removed his hat 
 in order to get the full benefit of the breeze, 
 his face was brought out into sharp relief by 
 the sunlight, and, one glance at him told her 
 that so far as features and coloring were con- 
 cerned he fitted the description received by the 
 Captain as well as Cosmo, If not better. Cer- 
 tainly he had blue eyes, was thin and hoUow- 
 164 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 cheeked, and he too was slightly bald and had 
 curly hair ; and yet he was no more like Cosmo 
 than the Duke of Wellington was like Napoleon 
 Bonaparte. The intensity and directness of 
 her gaze embarrassed both the girl and her 
 brother, and the latter nervously raised his 
 hand to his face, possibly as if to conceal it, 
 then changed his mind in the act and touched 
 his cap to the Captain. 
 
 " Good morning," returned Ponsonby stiffly. 
 
 " Good morning, sir," answered Bennett con- 
 fusedly. Something about the man recalled in 
 a vague fashion a long-forgotten impression 
 to Lily, — she had a statesman's gift for faces, 
 — a distant and not altogether pleasant 
 recollection of her wedding to Trevelyan, with 
 its crowds of relatives and acquaintances, its 
 awkward congratulations and useless, ponder- 
 ous gifts of glass and silver. Had she ever 
 known this person? Had she perhaps seen 
 him doing duty in some ungainly and clownish 
 fashion on the occasion when the employees 
 of the bank had presented her husband with a 
 loving cup? Ah, that was it! This must be 
 the man who had made the speech of congratu- 
 lation, — had expressed in halting, insipid, and 
 165 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 unconvincing phrase the regard in which these 
 poor automatic machines held the autocrat who 
 had lived by the sweat of their brows and the 
 scratching of their quills, the man who came 
 at ten forty-five and smoked a cigar in the in- 
 side oiEce with a silk hat on the back of his 
 head, the man who did about one full day's 
 work each week while they slaved from eight 
 until six, except on bank holidays. Yes, now 
 she recalled him! He was the assistant cash- 
 ier, who had come disjointedly forward at the 
 wedding reception and in high-water trousers 
 and weird white tie had made the " few re- 
 marks." Bennett saw that she recognized him 
 and his face changed color. Coincidentally 
 Lily thought she saw a chance to divert the 
 Captain's attention in a new direction, and as 
 she squeezed his arm she bowed quickly to the 
 man before her. 
 
 "How do you do?" she said in cordial 
 tones. " It 's a long time since we 've met, 
 Mr.—" 
 
 Bennett looked at her helplessly with an ex- 
 pression of agonized entreaty. 
 
 "It's Mrs. Trevelyan,— is n't it?" he 
 stammered. 
 
 1 66 
 
She turned to him with a face full of childlike simplicity 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " I 'm glad to see 
 you again. I forget your name." 
 
 The man opened his mouth as if to reply but 
 no sound came from his lips. 
 
 " Bennett," interjected the girl at his side 
 hurriedly. " You must excuse us, — my brother 
 is n't feeling well." 
 
 Lily and the Captain passed on, the officer 
 deep in his plans for the immediate arrest of 
 Cloud. He was naturally exhilarated over his 
 good fortune at so quickly identifying a cele- 
 brated criminal among his passengers, while 
 Lily was furious at herself, the Captain, and 
 especially at Micky for having everything go 
 wrong. And as she believed that the main 
 thing was to conceal the identity of the real 
 Cosmo, however temporary the expedient 
 might prove to be, and thus give the latter a 
 few days or at least hours more of freedom, she 
 resolved to take a desperate chance — for 
 more desperate chances had occasionally served 
 her ends — and to make a last and Herculean 
 effort to put Ponsonby upon the wrong scent. 
 So she turned to him with a face full of 
 childlike simplicity and candor and said quietly : 
 
 " Captain Ponsonby, you noticed that person 
 " 169 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 who just passed us, I presume? You saw the 
 color of his eyes and hair? You observed that 
 he recognized me? And I him. Well, that 
 man — the man who called me by name — is 
 the one you want — Cosmo Graeme!" 
 
 Captain Ponsonby turned upon her with an 
 expression of utter bewilderment. 
 
 "Cosmo Graeme?" he repeated after her. 
 " Who on earth is Cosmo Graeme ? I 'm look- 
 ing for a man named Chilvers who 's robbed 
 the London Branch of your husband's bank of 
 £5,000!" 
 
 170 
 
XI 
 
 Micky's mind is momentarily relieved 
 
 WYKE up, hangel face!" 
 The Captain's steward grabbed 
 Micky by the feet and yanked him violently up 
 and down in his bunk. Then as the angel face 
 slowly resumed its normal appearance of 
 freckled good nature Mr. Binks proceeded to 
 throw at its accompanying head with great 
 velocity and accuracy of aim one pink and one 
 orange newspaper, which opened like para- 
 chutes and descended like Navajo blankets 
 upon his red hair. 
 
 " Bl'ime me I Wot a chi-ros-kooro o' 
 color ! " remarked Binks admiringly. " You 
 livin' solar spectrum — see wot old Ponsonby's 
 give yer I He 's that tickled with the news 
 and 'is special message that 'e 's sent yer 'is 
 copies o' The Pink 'Un and The Winnin' Post." 
 
 "Last year's copies?" asked Micky, yawn- 
 ing. 
 
 171 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Nanty ! The latest — wot come on board 
 at Gib.," answered Binks. " Great doln's this 
 mornin' I Escaped criminal discovered on 
 board the Pavonia owin' to perspicosity o' 
 the line's most trusted hofEcer 1 Wot d 'ye s 'y ? 
 Somethin' 'ot, eh? " 
 
 Micky suddenly sat bolt upright. 
 
 " Eh ? " he stammered. " Who ? What ? " 
 
 " Sure ! " replied Binks, sitting down on the 
 bench and lighting a pipe. " One o' your own 
 particilar pets." 
 
 Micky sank back and drew the bed clothes 
 up around his face. So it had come as soon as 
 this! 
 
 " Yep ! " continued Binks, enjoying the sen- 
 sation he was creating. " HIdentified by your 
 'ighfalutin' friend Mrs. 'Ubert Trevelyan ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Trevelyan ! " repeated Micky aghast. 
 Could it be possible after their conversation 
 of yesterday at the stern? 
 
 "Nailed 'im solid on the main deck!" rat- 
 tled on Binks. " She and the Capting covered 
 the ship first thing this mornin'. Caught 'im 
 aft. Reg'lar female Sherlock 'Olmes. O' 
 course she knew 'im. Robbed her husband's 
 bloomin' bank ! " 
 
 172 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Wha-at?" cried Micky, throwing back 
 the clothes. "What bank?" 
 
 " Royal Bank o' Edinburgh," answered 
 Binks. " Swiped five thousand golden sover- 
 ingsl Bennet 's 'is nyme. Feller with the 
 girl as s'ys she 's 'is sister. / s'y she ain't 'is 
 sister! You see now! " 
 
 A moment more and Micky was throwing 
 on his wardrobe and cross-questioning the ac- 
 quiescent Binks. 
 
 " Sure, did n't you take it off Poldhu yerself 
 last night? Description an' all? You must 
 be batty! And you took the service message 
 for the Capting to search the ship, Wyke 
 hup, you sleepin' beauty, you I " 
 
 Then, like a flash of light into a dark cav- 
 ern, intelligence dawned on Micky's drowsy 
 brain. And he had never even thought of it. 
 Cosmo Graeme's shocking and dramatic nar- 
 rative had driven all else from his mind, or 
 he would have realized that since he had 
 transmitted no information concerning Lord 
 Roakby's murder to the Captain the latter 
 could never for a moment have connected the 
 message to search his ship for an escaped crim- 
 inal with anything except the defalcation from 
 173 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 the bank. And by a fortunate coincidence — 
 fortunate for Graeme, if not for Bennett — 
 the description had fitted both of them and Fate 
 had sacrificed the one to the other! So Bennett 
 was a criminal I He did n't look it, — and yet 
 there was no room for doubt. 
 
 " Is Bennett his real name? " he asked. 
 
 " No — Chilvers — James Chilvers," an- 
 swered Binks rapturously. " A bloomin' 
 clerk. Mrs. Trevelyan knowed 'im at onct. 
 Some doin's, / calls hit, for this old tub ! 
 Well, I must be goin' or Ponsonby '11 tyke my 
 hair off. Lemme see The Pink 'Un, when 
 you 're done with it." 
 
 He made his departure lingeringly while 
 Micky completed his toilet and glanced at the 
 front page of The Winning Post, that edi- 
 fying sheet edited by the celebrated Bob Sievier, 
 and " having the largest circulation in the world 
 of any paper costing more than a penny." 
 
 Graeme seemed to have more lives than a 
 cat 1 He could n't drown — must have been 
 born to be hung. But evidently not just yet. 
 Micky descended to the second cabin and bolted 
 a bowl of coffee with some toast and marma- 
 lade. 
 
 174 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Great hexcitement, sir!" said Dobson, 
 jauntily. " Our table 's drawn the grand 
 prize in the lottery! " 
 
 "So I hear!" answered Micky. "What 
 have they done with him? " 
 
 " Locked 'im hup in 'is state-room," replied 
 the steward. " The girl 's gone clean off her 
 'ead 1 Poor little thing ! " 
 
 "Too bad! Too bad! " acquiesced Micky, 
 who hated to see anybody in misfortune. " Be 
 sure and take her a nice lunch, Dobson. She '11 
 need it — and Bennett too." 
 
 He left the table and glanced up and down 
 the deck for any sight of Graeme, but the latter 
 was not to be discerned, and he ascended again 
 to the wireless house to smoke an after-break- 
 fast pipe and ponder on the new complications 
 in his little floating world. The Post and 
 The Pink 'Un still lay where Binks had 
 thrown them on the bunk. Outside the sun 
 was radiating a fierce glare from the white 
 paint. The wireless house was cool and 
 shady. He put his feet on the operating desk 
 and took up his favorite weekly. With in- 
 terest he read: 
 
 175 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Mr. Bettinson was busy last week. Whilst at Car- 
 diff he there made a match between Jim Driscoll and 
 the Frenchman Jean Poesy, who lately defeated Digger 
 Stanley at headquarters. The men are to box the best 
 of twenty rounds at the National on Monday in Derby 
 week, October 3. 
 
 But Micky's interest in the " fancy " was sec- 
 ondary to his love of horses, and he turned his 
 eye to the racing columns. He wondered what 
 would become of Roakby's racing stable now? 
 
 RACES TO CLOSE 
 
 Nottingham and Newark Hunts Steeplechase meet- 
 ing will take place on Monday and Tuesday, October 
 15th and i6th, 1912. 
 
 Handicapper — Mr. T. F. Dawkins. 
 
 FIRST DAY 
 
 The Nottinghampshire Selling Handicap Steeple- 
 chase of 150 sovs. for four-year-olds and upwards; win- 
 ners extra ; the winner to be sold by auction for 50 sovs. ; 
 the second to receive 10 sovs. out of the plate; entrance 
 2 sovs. and 3 sovs. extra for starters. Two miles. 
 
 The Consolation Handicap Hurdle Race Plate of 80 
 sovs., for four-year-olds and upwards; winners extra; 
 the second to receive 5 sovs. out of the plate; entrance 
 2 sovs., and i sov. extra for starters. About two miles 
 and three-quarters, over hurdles. 
 
 176 
 
"C. Q."; ORj IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 He 'd give his ears to be there ! He had n't 
 seen a race for three years except a joke of a one 
 at Buenos Ayres, — niggers up. It was good 
 to see the old Fink 'Un again I And to 
 think of Ponsonby taking it I He began to 
 think better of Ponsonby. He glanced on: 
 
 CRUELTY TO OYSTERS 
 
 To the Editor of the " Sporting Times" otherwise 
 
 known as the " Pink 'Un." 
 
 Dear Sir: I see it reported in to-day's papers that 
 President John Craft of the Alabama State Oyster Com- 
 mission is trying to pass a law " making it a criminal 
 offense to eat an oyster unless it has been humanely 
 killed." This is right! 
 
 Just because an oyster cannot yell and wriggle when 
 its shells are torn violently asunder and it is cut from 
 its base and speared with a fork, and sprinkled with 
 salt, pepper and vinegar, is no reason for concluding 
 the mollusc has no feelings.. 
 
 As a matter of fact, it does feel pain, and it suffers 
 dreadfully. All this could be avoided if the oyster were 
 killed before being served. It could be slaughtered 
 quickly and mercifully, and it would come to a peaceful 
 end. 
 
 Yours moUuscilly, 
 W. H. Smith. 
 
 177 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Smith was all to the good, grinned Micky. 
 What a relief it was to have the strain of that 
 Graeme business eased momentarily! 
 
 He drew contentedly on his pipe. 
 
 NOTES TO QUERIES 
 
 C. F. M.— p Bottomley is pronounced as spelt; not 
 Bholmondeley, articulated as Bumley. 
 
 J. H. M. — It was Oscar Wilde who spoke about 
 Mrs. Langtry, when in America, having an outdoor 
 photograph taken " with the Falls of Niagara as a kind 
 of unpretentious background." Nor do we want the 
 very long spun out lines dealing with " the rather prim- 
 er ose." 
 
 SERPENTINE.— H. wins the bet; the last favorite 
 to win the Lincolnshire Handicap was uninsured. 
 
 W. A. — Have handed it over to Mr. Pitcher, who 
 is pondering a volume on " Good Tunes and Old Fid- 
 dles," opening with Mrs. Werry (at the age of fifty- 
 six) blubbering over Byron at Smyrna and depriving 
 him of a lock of his hair. 
 
 D. D. R. — Too lurid for cultured readers. 
 
 A. F. A. — Selina Young, " the Female Blondin," 
 crossed the Thames on a rope stretched from the Bat- 
 tersea shore to Cremorne Gardens in 1861. We have 
 never heard of the other lady. 
 
 CARRIE UPSCHER.— It may have been ac- 
 counted a good story hundreds and hundreds of years 
 ago, when there was a land connection between Europe 
 178 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 and America, and Hull and Leith were on the coast of 
 Norway, but it reads a bit old-fashioned now. 
 
 T. S. M. — The race was won by Mr. Solly Joel 
 with Bendy Tree ; Billy the Verger could only get sev- 
 enth. 
 
 A. W. A. — Was very popular four reigns ago, or 
 about the time when Lady Dorothy Nevill tells us she 
 " remembers Lady Cardigan as a girl dancing the 
 Cachuca with great verve." 
 
 BARMY. — Because both papers are practically 
 owned by Cadbury, the cocoa man. 
 
 OLAF. — Quite good for private circulation, but not 
 to put into print. 
 
 "How it took him back home! Back to 
 crowded London — back to the green turf — ■ 
 to the smell of stables, to the Crystal Palace, to 
 the cliffs of Dover, — to dear old England. 
 He let the paper fall and his mind turned to 
 the Bennetts and their trouble. How the poor 
 little devil of a girl must feel! Why, it was 
 only a couple of days ago that they had been up 
 in the wireless house and he had explained ev- 
 erything to her. Was she his sister, he won- 
 dered! No wonder the fellow looked sick, if 
 he 'd stolen five thousand pounds ! But, if he 
 had, why did they travel second cabin? Then 
 came a sound of steps on the roof of the deck- 
 179 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 house and Binks reappeared waving a sheet of 
 paper. 
 
 " Marconigram from the Capting tellin' wot 
 a bloomin' 'ero 'e is ! " announced the latter. 
 
 " Thanks," said Micky, bringing down his 
 feet. "Here's The Pink 'Un,— l'm done 
 with it." 
 
 Binks grabbed up the sheet and hurriedly left 
 the office for his own quarters, there to devour 
 greedily its engrossing contents. 
 
 " Cunard, Liverpool," ran the Captain's 
 message. " Criminal wanted discovered to- 
 day on Pavonia. Placed under immediate 
 arrest. Await instructions New York. 
 
 " Ponsonby." 
 
 Micky laughed. Just at the present junc- 
 ture things seemed to be going Graeme's way. 
 The poor old Captain had worded his radio 
 so that it applied to either of the two, — Chil- 
 vers or the other. There was luck for youl 
 If he had said " Chilvers discovered to-day," 
 Scotland Yard would have radioed him to look 
 for Roakby's murderer as well, and all would 
 have been over — again. Heaven must be 
 looking out for this unfortunate son of a Mar- 
 i8o 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 quis, even if it had turned a cold and neglectful 
 shoulder upon the more humble clerk. He 
 threw on his mains and relayed the message 
 on to New York via the Berlin for trans- 
 mission through Wellfleet and Crookhaven to 
 Liverpool. 
 
 i8i 
 
XII 
 
 MRS. TREVELYAN HAS A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR 
 
 ON a somewhat murky afternoon about a 
 week later, the Boston bride and groom, 
 Lord Ashurst, and Mrs. Trevelyan were play- 
 ing their customary afternoon game of bridge 
 in the Pavonia's smoking-room, in digni- 
 fied unobtrusiveness, for ten cents a point. 
 Luck had deserted Lily and she already owed 
 Ashurst some fifty pounds and the Boston bride 
 one hundred and fifty. But she always en- 
 deavored to " even up " if possible and, now 
 that there were only two days left of the voy- 
 age, was making a last frantic effort to get back 
 what she had lost by " doubling " and 
 " doubling again " and " playing it alone." 
 Now as she lost again to the Boston lady she 
 rang the bell impatiently for the steward and 
 said sharply: 
 
 " Boy, bring me a whisky and soda! What 
 will you have, — you others? " 
 182 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The bride, who was winning, shook her 
 head. 
 
 " I 'm on the wagon," she smiled. " Still, 
 you may bring me a sherry and bitters." 
 
 " B. and S." grunted Ashurst. 
 
 " Gin ricky," added the Bostonian. 
 
 " 'K you " (he pronounced it exactly like the 
 letter "Q"), said the steward as he bustled 
 off. 
 
 The bride offered Lily a cigarette and lit one 
 herself, and the blue smoke slowly drifted up- 
 wards until it caught the draft from the venti- 
 lator and shot in a thin, straight line out of the 
 nearest port. 
 
 " Captain says we '11 dock day after to- 
 morrow," remarked Ashurst. 
 
 " Are you going to declare anything? " asked 
 the bride of Lily. 
 
 "I hadn't thought, — are you?" returned 
 Mrs. Trevelyan. 
 
 " Well, really I have n't anything in partic- 
 ular," replied the other. " A few dresses and 
 some lace. I suppose I shall declare a dress 
 or two. The lace I can slip into my camera. 
 You can always take the inspector's name and 
 address and send him something. Of course 
 183 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 there is n't any need to declare anything, — but 
 I usually do just for form's sake." 
 
 At this juncture the boy returned with the 
 drinks and the subject was abruptly dropped 
 only to be resumed upon his departure. Lily 
 handed him a crown and brushed aside the 
 change. 
 *' ",Q," he chortled, and disappeared. 
 
 " Beastly nuisance ! — that Customs busi- 
 ness," drawled Ashurst. " The beggars bore 
 the life out of a fellow! And those damn 
 ' declarations.' Even if one wanted to put any- 
 thing down one could n't remember it I I 
 usually write ' one pipe — 2 and 6,' and let it 
 , go at that." 
 
 " It would n't do me much good to declare 
 a pipe, Ashurst," remarked Lily lazily. 
 " What do you suppose the women do who 
 really have a lot of things — jewelry, for in- 
 stance ? Nobody ever pays on anything, so far 
 as I can see. But suppose the inspectors really 
 looked? " 
 
 " Why, as you say, nobody ever pays on 
 jewelry," said the bride. " It 's so easy to 
 hide. How on earth could they ever find a lot 
 184 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 of loose diamonds or pearls? I had a friend 
 that did an awfully clever thing once — was n't 
 it, Lawrence? She had a pair of pearl ear- 
 rings, — oh, great big ones, — and her husband 
 had some shirt studs, worth over fifteen thou- 
 sand dollars all together. She could n't think 
 what to do at first, and then she had a brillianjt" 
 idea — she 's awfully clever. They took , his 
 revolver and emptied out the shells and pttt the 
 pearls in the cartridges instead of po,wder and 
 placed the bullets on top of them just as they 
 were in the beginning. Was n't thi^t neat? " 
 
 " Diabolical ! " assented- Lily. 
 
 " I knew a chap that invented something bet- 
 ter than that," put in Ashurst. " You know 
 there are n't any inspectors around after every- 
 body has left the ship. Well, this fellow was 
 bringing in a pearl necklace for his wife — cost 
 nearly $20,000. He didn't declare anything 
 and walked right through the inspectors. A 
 couple of days later he went down to the office 
 of the Company and got a card to go over and 
 look at the ship, which was lying at the dock 
 with only a few of the crew on board. The 
 chap at the gangway let him up and he found 
 " 185 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 a steward who unlocked his state-room for 
 him. Then he got the necklace, which he 'd 
 hidden there, and brought it ashore, — no 
 questions asked." 
 
 " Where 'd he hide it? " inquired Lily. 
 
 " Why," said Ashurst, " you know those 
 ventilators for the forced draught? Well, he 
 just tied a string to it and lowered it in. No 
 one would think of looking for anything there, 
 would they?" 
 
 " I think he took a good many chances ! " 
 remarked the bride decidedly. " What 's the 
 matter with getting one of the officers or a 
 stewardess to bring anything you happen to 
 have ashore for you? Nobody ever searches 
 them. My brother gets all his cigars that way. 
 Why, either the assistant purser — or the sec- 
 ond steward — is always glad to earn an extra 
 tip. So is any one of them. In that way you 
 don't take any risk at all." 
 
 " By George I there you go I " laughed 
 Ashurst. " It 's always the women who cor- 
 rupt the men I " 
 
 " Well, if the Government is bound to have 
 such ridiculous and unjust laws, it must expect 
 people to break them ! " exclaimed Lily hotly. 
 1 86 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Why should n't I bring in dresses or any- 
 thing else that I have bought and paid for? I 
 call it stealing — simply stealing — for them 
 to make me pay over a lot of money for my own 
 things! You can't get anything fit to wear in 
 America, anyhow I " 
 
 " That 's right," said the Boston man judi- 
 cially. 
 
 " I should say not ! " assented Ashurst. 
 " By the way, where do you get your clothes, 
 old chap?" 
 
 " Poole's, — ever since I wore kilt-skirts ! " 
 answered the Boston man as if insulted by the 
 question. " Where d' you get yours, may I 
 ask?" 
 
 " Feller in Hanover Square," answered the 
 other. " Peddler 's his name. Rippin' good 
 cloth. Try him, sometime I " 
 
 " Thanks," said the Bostonlan, scribbling 
 down the name on the back of a card. " Well, 
 are we going to play any more ? " 
 
 "Oh, let's cut it out!" said Lily. "I'm 
 so bored with everything — present company 
 excepted, of course — on this ship, I could 
 scream. What 's the news? " 
 
 " Nothing," answered the Boston man 
 187 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 gloomily. " We have n't had a storm and no- 
 body has even had the relief of being seasick 
 
 — I mean, — that is to say, — the monotony has 
 not even been interrupted to that extent." 
 
 " Hear ! Hear ! " exclaimed Ashurst. " I 
 don't want my monotony interrupted that way. 
 Speaking of being seasick, there 's an old wo- 
 man at my table that was jolly well scared she 
 was going to give up the first day. She asked 
 our steward what to do. He said — Ha ! Ha ! 
 
 — what d' you suppose ? — 'So long as you 
 don't float your food, Madam, you '11 be all 
 right ! ' He meant, you know, she should n't 
 drink too much. He 's a card, that fellow ! " 
 
 "Ashurst, you're disgusting!" drawled 
 Lily. " I 'm not interested in seasick stories. 
 It 's almost enough to make one ill just to hear 
 you talk. I think I '11 go out and stroll 'round 
 a bit." 
 
 "Shall I come with you?" asked Ashurst 
 plaintively. 
 
 " No, thanks ! " she retorted. " I want to 
 invite my soul! See you all later." 
 
 She got up and crossed the deck to her state- 
 room, where Fantine had drawn the easy chair 
 close to the door, and rather disgustedly she 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 threw herself into it, directing the maid to or- 
 der some tea from the steward. The whole 
 day had been a failure from start to finish, and 
 it was now five o'clock and almost over. Ever 
 since her ridiculous break with the Captain — 
 a break due to her foolish readiness to believe 
 that Micky had deceived her — she had felt 
 utterly out of patience with herself. 
 
 Not that she was particularly to blame. 
 How was she to know there had been an em- 
 bezzlement at the Bank of Edinburgh in addi- 
 tion to the Roakby affair, one following close 
 on the heels of the other, and that Scotland 
 Yard had sent out descriptions of both fugitives. 
 And poor little Micky! What an injustice 
 she had done him ! The boy was a trump — 
 as she had always thought! He had men- 
 tioned nothing to her about the Bank of Edin- 
 burgh. But why should he? He probably 
 did n't know that her husband was connected 
 with it, and it was the most natural thing in 
 the world for her to have assumed that if the 
 Captain was looking for anybody he must be 
 looking for Cosmo. But her ridiculous lie ! 
 And her bungled, half-hearted and altogether 
 unconvincing excuse to Ponsonby that she was 
 189 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 trying to mix him up just for fun! Just for 
 fun I She would n't try any such fun again, — 
 at any rate not with him! He had done with 
 her. That was clear enough, and he had 
 not come down into the saloon to a single meal 
 since she liad so foolishly tried to make him 
 think that Chilvers was Cosmo Graeme. 
 What a wild stroke that had been ! The worst 
 ever I And now more than likely Ponsonby 
 had a sneaking suspicion that Cosmo was a 
 crook too — traveling as he was under an as- 
 sumed name. How lame had been her at- 
 tempted explanation to the effect that he was 
 in fact a student of practical sociology! She 
 felt hot with disgust at the thought of it. The 
 whole thing had been too absurd! There she 
 had been striving and lying to divert attention 
 from Cosmo when all the time the Captain 
 had been looking for an entirely different per- 
 son, — a miserable, consumptive drudge of a 
 clerk, whom she afterwards had been compelled 
 to identify as Chilvers in order to prevent 
 the Captain from arresting Cosmo. What a 
 mixed-up performance it had turned out to be ! 
 And yet, after all, what a natural mistake it 
 had been on her part. 
 
 190 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Now the whole ship was talking of the ex- 
 traordinary coincidence by which she had 
 stumbled upon the very man who had robbed 
 her husband's bank! It had made a terrific 
 sensation, particularly when the officers had 
 taken him and locked him up, half fainting, in 
 his state-room. And now there was a guard 
 pacing up and down, in front of his door! 
 And Cosmo was still free to come and go as he 
 chose, — but for how long? Only until the 
 pilot should come aboard with his bundle of 
 papers and the Captain should read all about 
 it, and begin to wonder why on earth he had n't 
 heard of it before. Then he 'd know he had 
 Cosmo Graeme on board for she had told him 
 so, — fool that she was ! And Cosmo would 
 either have to jump overboard or be thrown 
 into irons! And she was to blame for it! 
 No one else. 
 
 Everything was going wrong. There was 
 her necklace — what was she going to do with 
 that? She m.ust decide shortly or she would 
 certainly have to pay the duty on it. Thirty 
 thousand dollars ! She could n't pay any such 
 sum, — it would be too ridiculous. Yet after 
 what Fantine had told her about the stringency 
 191 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 with which the regulations were being enforced 
 she had no wish to try to smuggle it in her- 
 self. Yet somehow it must be done! Thirty 
 thousand dollars duty? It would be a fortune 
 for some people ! And then the conversation 
 in the smoking-room came back to her and she 
 wondered if she could n't get somebody on the 
 ship to take the necklace in for her, — Micky 
 perhaps. If he didn't want to do it at first 
 she 'd persuade him. Why, he could fetch it 
 to her several days after they landed and no- 
 body would be any the wiser. And she 'd 
 nave one on TrevelyanI He even might be 
 willing to shell out for a new motor on the 
 strength of her little coup. 
 
 The sun was setting into a bank of gray and 
 crimson cloud that lay along the horizon like 
 a sash of watered silk. People were begin- 
 ning to take their ante-prandial walk around 
 the ship. Hoydenish girls tramped lankily up 
 and down in front of her, hanging on to one 
 another's arms, giggling and shrieking with 
 laughter. The doctor, a neat person, who 
 rather fancied himself in his blue uniform, was 
 strolling up and down with two overgrown 
 niisses of fifteen, who thought him the most 
 192 
 
"C!*Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 fascinating man they had ever met. Out 
 forward the immigrants were gyrating in cir- 
 cumscribed circles to the accompaniment of an 
 accordion playing " Waltz me around again 
 Willie 1 'round and 'round and 'round! " The 
 bow rose and fell slowly on the long surge. 
 How happy they were! And they were go- 
 ing to a life of drudgery, — in sweat-shops, 
 kitchens, or Minnesota farms! Lily shud- 
 dered! Thirty thousand dollars! 
 
 " Fantine ! " she called sharply. 
 
 " Oui, Madame," answered the maid, obedi- 
 ently appearing out of the recesses of the state- 
 room. 
 
 " I wish you to put my necklace in a card- 
 board box, if you can find one, and do it up 
 carefully in a piece of paper." 
 
 " Oui, Madame," replied Fantine. " I can 
 use the box for Madame's ruching." 
 
 " Yes, that will do," said Lily. " Mind you 
 tie it up neatly, in the smallest possible parcel." 
 
 When Fantine was gone Lily lay back and 
 with half-shut eyes watched the horizon turn 
 from rose to purple, and from purple to slate. 
 Strands of mackerel cloud barred the western 
 sky drawn together in a focus at the point 
 193 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 where the sun had sunk, and there was a damp- 
 ness in the air that seemed to presage a change 
 in the weather. Well, anyhow, they had had 
 a perfect trip so far. One day of rain 
 would n't matter so much. Already she had 
 seen shore birds flying 'about the ship, and one 
 or two lines of smoke on the distant circle told 
 her that they were converging upon the course 
 of other western bound steamers. Soon the 
 red eye of Fire Island light-ship would begin to 
 blink, soon the Statue of Liberty would raise its 
 burning torch and the tall buildings on the end 
 of Manhattan would poke their heads above 
 the sea. And then dust, motor gas, the con- 
 fusion and clatter of New York — and — 
 Trevelyan! She gave a shrug of disgust. It 
 sickened her to have lost a thousand dollars to 
 Ashurst and that trim snip from Boston, — that 
 conceited child who thought existence beyond 
 the purlieus of Beacon Street and the North 
 Shore quite impossible. And Cosmo? What 
 of him? Would they come down the harbor 
 with a squad of officers and put the " bracelets " 
 on him in view of the whole crowd of gossiping 
 passengers ? Would the papers print full page 
 stories about Roakby and Parsley Croft, with 
 194 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 photographs of Cosmo led off between de- 
 tectives with shackles on his wrists? She 
 could n't stand it ! Maybe Micky could de- 
 vise some way of hiding him on the ship. 
 She 'd heard of such things. — Micky I Al- 
 ways Micky! 
 
 " Voila," said Fantine softly. " Here is the 
 necklace, Madame." 
 
 Lily took the p9.ckage done up daintily in 
 tissue paper and tied with a piece of pink rib- 
 bon, and placed it in her lap. She had not 
 worn it since the evening before she had re- 
 ceived Trevelyan's marconigram. Her hus- 
 band had not sent her another radio and 
 she had not replied to his, but either was hardly 
 to be expected. Their relations did not call 
 for much; theirs was an offensive and defen- 
 sive alliance simply, — to Lily rather more of- 
 fensive than anything else. 
 
 " Oh, I might as well take a chancel " she 
 muttered. " If Micky won't do it for me, 
 perhaps I can cook up some other way of get- 
 ting it in I " 
 
 She sighed, feeling unconsciously the fall of 
 the barometer. What a muddle she 'd made 
 of life ! Here she was getting to middle age, 
 195 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 with not a soul who really cared for her in the 
 entire world. Why had n't she married some 
 decent young fellow out of the hundreds she 
 might have had during her first seasons in 
 London, instead of losing her head and running 
 amuck the way she had done ? God only knew 
 what she had expected then. Nothing had 
 seemed too high for her to attain. There were 
 dukes she might have had if she had only 
 played her hand more carefully, more conserva- 
 tively. That hand which had been full of 
 trumps ! But she had ot'^r-played, and now at 
 the end of the game what had she won? 
 Nothing! Nothing that gave her the slight- 
 est satisfaction — except that which she still de- 
 rived from the remnants of her beauty. She 
 bit her lips fiercely; she was still young! She 
 would not grow old! She would play the 
 game until the candles grew dim and then — 
 she shrugged her shoulders and closed her eyes. 
 The light faded out of the west and the wind 
 rose, while a gull squeaked harshly with a sound 
 like the chalking of a billiard cue, and shot 
 aslant the wind a few feet from the rail before 
 her like a bird of evil omen. The two old 
 maids staggering by to get up an appetite for 
 196 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 the evening meal cast sidelong glances at her 
 as she lay with her head thrown back in the 
 light cast by the electric bracket inside her 
 window. 
 
 " That 's her," whispered one. " / don't 
 see anything in her at all." 
 
 " Nor I ! " echoed the other raspingly. 
 " She looks like an old woman I " 
 
 They passed and a spat of rain struck Lily 
 in the face. Wearily she arose from her 
 steamer chair and entered her drawing-room. 
 There were dark circles under her eyes. 
 
 " Fantine ! " she cried, with clenched hands, 
 " get my best evening dress out of the ward- 
 robe. — Yes, the Paquin one, with the foulard 
 skirt and the chiffon trimming." 
 
 197 
 
XIII 
 
 IN WHICH MANY PERSONS ARE SURPRISED 
 
 THE barometer had been falling steadily 
 all the afternoon. But nothing could 
 lower the mercury of Captain Ponsonby's good 
 humor. By gad 1 He 'd made a hit ! His 
 name would be on the front pages of the papers 
 that the pilot would bring on board to-morrow 
 afternoon. So he had ordered half a dozen of 
 those shilling cigars from the smoking-room 
 and was making a day of it. Now as he strode 
 up and down on the bridge, still smoking, the 
 fact that a northeast storm was on its way did 
 not worry him in the least, although he knew 
 that from every direction other vessels were 
 drawing nearer and nearer and that the Pavonia 
 was in the direct course of the eastward bound 
 steamers on the southern route. 
 
 "Going to be a wet night, Simmons!" he 
 growled. 
 
 " Yes, sir, — we ought to be passing the 
 198 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Saxonia about nine o'clock. She left New 
 York at ten this morning," replied the second 
 officer. 
 
 " We 've made a successful run — all things 
 considered," continued the Captain, who had 
 Chilvers in his mind. 
 
 " Very fair, sir," answered the other, a 
 spare, wiry little man who loathed Ponsonby. 
 
 "Ought to pick up Fire Island by eight 
 o'clock to-morrow night," went on the other. 
 
 " And probably take on the pilot by five," 
 nodded Simmons, furious because the Captain 
 had n't had the simple, ordinary decency to of- 
 fer him a cigar. 
 
 " I suppose they '11 come down and take off 
 Chilvers in a tug," mused Ponsonby, thus 
 adroitly luring the conversation In the direction 
 of his coup. 
 
 " Very likely," assented the other dryly. 
 
 He had heard nothing but Chilvers — Chil- 
 vers — Chilvers for a week, and he was sick 
 of him and of his captor. 
 
 " Well, — I 'm afraid It will make a great 
 
 talk in the papers," meditated the Captain. 
 
 " Yellow press Is hungry for this sort of thing. 
 
 By the way, how is the man? You must be 
 
 199 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 careful and not let him jump overboard or find 
 a piece of rope or a knife — those fellows are 
 very apt to do away with themselves." 
 
 " No danger, sir," responded Simmons. 
 " Everything of that sort has been removed 
 from his state-room, and I have one man out- 
 side his window and another on guard at the 
 door." 
 
 " Yes — we must deliver him alive," went 
 on Ponsonby, as if Chilvers were a wild an- 
 imal destined for a zoological park. " It 
 would never do to lose him ! " 
 
 " No, sir," said Simmons. " It 's beginning 
 to rain," he added. 
 
 It was the same advance gust of drops that 
 had driven Mrs. Trevelyan into her cabin. As 
 the light had died out of the west an army of 
 clouds had arisen to the north and east and 
 was now sweeping down upon the ship, bearing 
 in its wake a solid bank of fog. The Captain 
 stepped to the speaking tube and ordered Binks 
 to bring up his rubber coat. 
 
 " I '11 take this watch, Simmons," he said 
 gruffly. He had no inclination to sit at the 
 same table with Mrs. Hubert Trevelyan during 
 another long ship's dinner. His dignity would 
 
 200 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 not allow it. The woman had deliberately at- 
 tempted to make small of him — him, a senior 
 captain of the Cunard Line I He 'd not com- 
 pliment her by his presence. She could con- 
 tinue to get on without him and see how she 
 liked it. Then at the conclusion of the voyage 
 he would magnanimously and very formally 
 bid her adieu. It rankled in his bosom that he 
 had picked the wrong man and that she had 
 told him so. That was bad enough, but for 
 this woman — no matter how handsome she 
 was — to try to mix him up and jolly him 
 in that fashion — ugh 1 Captain Ponsonby, 
 slightly conscious of a congenital Incapacity to 
 understand what the devil she had been up to, 
 felt both chagrined and insulted. Well, they 
 had the chap anyway, safe and alive. No, 
 Mrs. Hubert Trevelyan could eat alone with 
 that fool Ashurst. 
 
 The steamer met the advancing fog bank and 
 in a moment her search-light was trying unsuc- 
 cessfully to bore a red-rimmed yellow hole 
 through It. 
 
 "Slow her down!" ordered Ponsonby. 
 " The Saxonia may be 'around here some- 
 where." 
 
 13 aoi 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The young officer on duty rang down to the 
 engine room and instantly the great liner ceased 
 her straining and swept almost noiselessly 
 through the fog, — which came swirling in over 
 her bow. At about the same instant the rain 
 rattled down upon the bridge in volleys of icy 
 drops. 
 
 " My gad ! " exclaimed Ponsonby, spitting 
 out a limp and dripping shilling cigar. " This 
 is wet." 
 
 Darkness, black, dense, impenetrable, had 
 come with the fog, and the search-light striking 
 against that barrier of mist and rain was thrown 
 back and upward at arm's length, as if a bur- 
 glar's lantern were reflected from a wall. 
 
 " Let go the whistle every ten minutes," called 
 down the Captain through the speaking tube, 
 and in another moment the ship trembled to 
 the hoarse vibration of the fog horn. 
 
 Then Ponsonby, his glistening purple face 
 stinging with the cutting rain, his eyes burrow- 
 ing fiercely into the black night, his red ears 
 listening for every sound above the seething 
 of the waves and the lashing of the storm, un- 
 concernedly minding his own regular business 
 as well as he knew how, rose in stature from be- 
 202 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 ing a ponderous ass into a high and efficient type 
 of man, to whom we should be glad to trust 
 our lives. 
 
 Meantime, Lily Trevelyan had intended with 
 the assistance of Fantine to complete une grande 
 toilette — her challenge to the flat-chested 
 maiden ladies of whose acerbity she had been 
 so unfortunately a victim, as she sat on deck. 
 Her dressing-room blazed with electricity — 
 in sharp contrast to the blackness outside. Her 
 bath, gently lapping the porcelain edges of the 
 tub (as the Pavonia began to throw up her 
 nose against the storm) was faintly scented 
 with rose water. Diaphanous linen things as 
 soft as silk and as thin lay in lacy piles on a 
 wicker chair. A huge gold powder puff box 
 was open upon the dresser. A pair of chamois 
 slippers edged with fur had been placed con- 
 veniently by the bath. Two soft, thick towels 
 hung from the glass rod with a dozen embroid- 
 ered linen ones. And across the brass bed had 
 been carefully laid out the Paquin foulard dress 
 with the chiffon trimming — that is, if dress it 
 could properly be called, since it resembled 
 rather a sort of skirt with a couple of loops and 
 a handful of gauze above. 
 203 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 AH of the apparel which this full grown and 
 round-limbed woman needed to cover herself 
 and keep her warm could have been crammed 
 into a man's overcoat pocket — or nearly so. 
 It is the cause of perpetual amazement, this 
 superiority of the female over the male in her 
 ability to go through life with a minimum of 
 clothing and a maximum of expense. Every 
 one of us — I refer of course to my masculine 
 readers, who alone are interested in Mrs. Tre- 
 velyan's boudoir — would have been wearing 
 under the same circumstances several thick lay- 
 ers of wool and a shirt as heavy and impenetra- 
 ble as a steel breastplate. Some day, if she 
 lives long enough, Lily Trevelyan may be wear- 
 ing the same things, but when she does, al- 
 though she may be able to vote, her power will 
 be gone. 
 
 " What a horrid night I " she cried, irritably, 
 swinging to the door with a bang that made the 
 lights flicker in their sockets. " Fantine ! Do 
 you see any lines under my eyes ? " 
 
 " Mais, non ! Madame ! " expostulated the 
 maid, as she deftly removed her mistress's coat 
 and hat. 
 
 " I know you 're lying to me 1 " she answered, 
 204 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 throwing herself into the armchair before the 
 mirror. " I 'm getting old! — and tired! " 
 
 " Madame ! " cried Fantine. " You look but 
 twenty! There is no one like you. But your 
 bath is ready. Madame will dress?" 
 
 In the glass Lily saw the dragged look on her 
 face that now came there so often. Any over- 
 exertion, any nervousness or anxiety, any slight 
 indisposition, might bring it — the dawn of old 
 age. Five years ago, she thought, I could 
 do anything! And now! She turned away 
 gloomily. 
 
 " I '11 show them I " she cried angrily. " I'll 
 show them whether I 'm an old woman or 
 not!" 
 
 And in a moment more a gentle plashing in 
 the next room told Fantine that her mistress 
 was in her bath. 
 
 205 
 
XIV 
 
 AT CLOSE QUARTERS 
 
 WITH the first dash of rain Micky had 
 scuttled for the wireless house. Less 
 than three hundred and fifty miles from New 
 York he knew well the dangers of a collision 
 with another liner or a coastwise schooner. 
 Earlier in the afternoon he had been talking to. 
 one of the land stations and to several other 
 steamers round about him. Morrissy on the 
 Berlin had said they were going to make quar- 
 antine that night, — that the pilot had come 
 aboard and that there was to be a tremendous 
 ball game at the American League grounds 
 between the Giants and Philadelphia for the 
 world's Championship, betting somewhat in 
 favor of the Athletics. He had also picked 
 up the Saxonia, who had given her location at 
 three o'clock as some two hundred and seventy- 
 five miles off Fire Island. The two boats 
 206 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 should pass each other some time during the 
 evening. 
 
 Now as he threw on his mains his " C Q " 
 caught Cape Cod, the Berlin just entering the 
 narrows, and a dozen or so other ingoing and 
 outgoing liners, including the Saxonia. He 
 passed the time of day and the weather with all 
 of them. In every case the answer was the 
 same, — fog like cheese from Cape Sable to 
 Hatteras, — had been for two days. And be- 
 fore he knew it Micky found that the Pavonia 
 had herself plunged into the bank and had 
 slackened her speed. 
 
 Then came the deluge. At first a spatter 
 and skurry on the top of the deck-house, then a 
 prolonged roll as from a hundred snare drums, 
 — and then, the rain really came, sweeping in 
 steady sheets against the windows, lashing the 
 top of the deck-house into a dancing frog pond, 
 rattling and shaking his windows and driving a 
 steady stream of water under the tightly 
 closed door. 
 
 " Sufferin' ducks ! " he whistled. " This is 
 some water, — what? " 
 
 The wireless house shook with the wind, for 
 it stood alone exposed to the full blast of the 
 207 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 storm. Small cataracts began to flow down 
 from the window-sills, and a leak appeared in 
 the ceiling and an uninterrupted trickle poured 
 from it upon his dressing-table. Yes, it was a 
 dirty night. 
 
 " H-n-n-n-n-n-n ! " went the hoarse voice of 
 the fog horn, in a suspiratlon lasting for several 
 seconds, but which in the fury of the gale 
 sounded dim and distant to Micky. How far 
 could it penetrate on such a night?" 
 
 " MSA de MPA," he snapped out on his 
 instrument. " Do you get my signals? " 
 
 He waited amid the riot of wind and water 
 for the faint response. 
 
 "MPA de MSA — Your signals are weak. 
 How are you ? " 
 
 " MSA de MPA," he answered. " Doing 
 nicely, thank you. Running now at half speed 
 on account of fog. Can you hear our 
 whistle?" 
 
 " MPA de MSA," replied the Saxonia. 
 " Cannot hear your whistle or anything else. 
 Too much noise. We are running at half 
 speed also." 
 
 At that moment another boat — ' the Wash- 
 ington, cut In. 
 
 208 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "MPA de DKN. Are you whistling? I 
 can hear whistle to starboard now. Answer." 
 
 But the Pavonia was not uttering a sound. 
 
 "DKN de MPA," rattled Micky. "We 
 are not whistling. Must be some other ship. 
 Can it be Saxoniaf " 
 
 " MPA de DKN," answered the operator 
 on the Washington. " Saxonia says not. Can- 
 not find out who it is. Devil of a night." 
 
 " DKN de MPA — Bet your sweet hfe 1 " 
 said Micky, and listened with all his ears. 
 
 But he was not listening any harder than Cap- 
 tain Ponsonby on the bridge. For four mortal 
 hours that ponderous ass had strained every 
 nerve of his aural organs for the faintest noise 
 of escaping steam — but in vain. He knew 
 the Saxonia was due at about that time, but 
 there was no way to place her in the fog. She 
 might be either one or twenty miles away. She 
 might be — 
 
 "H-n-n-n-n-n!" 
 
 Without warning there came suddenly a pro- 
 longed blast close upon his starboard bow. 
 
 The Saxonia! 
 
 He sprang to the indicator and with his heart 
 in his throat gave the engineer " Reverse — 
 209 
 
"C, Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 full speed." Instantly came the response and 
 the huge liner keeled far over to the thunder- 
 ing of her screw, and wrestled with the sea amid 
 a white lather of foam, as the Captain grabbed 
 the rope and sent the answering warning of the 
 Pavonia across the darkness into the fog. 
 
 "H-n-n-n-nl" 
 
 She was right upon them! This time to 
 port! Or was it to starboard? Where was 
 it! 
 
 " Stop ! " The Captain almost yanked the 
 handle off the indicator. 
 
 The Pavonia's engines ceased to throb. 
 Slowly she drifted sideways to the storm, and 
 bellowing like some prehistoric sea-monster in 
 its death agony, began to rise and fall in the 
 hollow of the waves. Again came the snorting 
 of the funnel, deafening, overwhelming. 
 
 Micky in the wireless house heard the roar 
 of steam and realized'that the Saxonia and Pa- 
 vonia were almost in collision. 
 
 " Do you hear us? " he jerked out, the sweat 
 beading his forehead. " Reverse — for God's 
 sake!" 
 
 " Yes. Cannot see you. We have re- 
 versed," shot the Saxonia. 
 
 2IO 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " We have reversed also," he flashed back. 
 " All safe. Cannot see you. Must be within 
 few yards of each other." 
 
 Thus the Saxonia and Pavonia lay at arm's 
 length thundering like two helpless giants, their 
 captains expecting momentarily to be hurled, 
 each from his bridge, by a splintering concus- 
 sion, while the two boys in the wireless offices 
 flashed encouragement to each other. 
 
 Lily Trevelyan had been playing bridge with 
 her friends all the evening in the smoking- 
 room, where the glare of the electric lights 
 was tempered by a cloud of cigar smoke almost 
 as thick as the fog outside. Arrayed in her 
 Paquin gown with its extreme cut she had dazed 
 the passengers at dinner and filled the smoking- 
 saloon afterwards. Apparently the only male 
 absent was Ponsonby, and he had duties else- 
 where. The men, who had had plenty of op- 
 portunity to study her beauty, vowed she had 
 never shown herself off to such advantage. 
 
 " This is the last! " she announced, as, a cig- 
 arette between her lips, she essayed to deal. 
 " It is getting too hot in here ! " 
 
 Suddenly the ship shook violently and rolled 
 to starboard with a violence that almost threw 
 
 211 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 the party out of their seats. The sound of 
 crashing glass came from all sides, and there 
 was a chorus of oaths and ejaculations in 
 French and English, above which rose the thun- 
 der of the funnel directly over their heads. 
 
 " Collision ! " some fool shouted. 
 
 There was a rush for the door, which was 
 thrown violently open by the nearest passenger. 
 Lily turned faint, but the Boston bride exhib- 
 ited a studied unconcern. 
 
 "Ashurst!" cried Lily, "go and see what 
 it is!" 
 
 Through the door amid the driving rain that 
 entered came also the diapason of the Saxonia, 
 directly beside them. 
 
 " Another steamer! " gasped Lily, and push- 
 ing her chair away from the table rose un- 
 steadily to her feet, sick with fear. 
 
 " H-n-n-n-n ! — H-n-n-n-n ! " snorted the two 
 steamers. 
 
 "G-g-g-od!" stammered Ashurst, leading 
 Lily towards the door in the wake of the other 
 occupants of the saloon, who, hatless and in 
 their evening clothes, were crowded upon the 
 promenade deck staring stupidly into the night. 
 
 The noise made by the two boats indicated 
 
 212 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 deadly danger, but there was no confusion and 
 no scurrying for life preservers. And then, 
 with equal unexpectedness, the screw began to 
 vibrate again and the Pavonia righted herself 
 and moved forward. 
 
 " Look I Look 1 " shouted half a dozen of 
 the men on deck. 
 
 And Lily looked quickly and saw not more 
 than two hundred feet away upon the starboard 
 quarter a row of feeble, misty lights and a 
 great glare that beat upon her eyes and nearly 
 blinded her. 
 
 Bellowing and roaring, the Pavonia gathered 
 headway and shot into the storm while the Sax- 
 onia dropped astern rapidly and soon was swal- 
 lowed up by the night. 
 
 " And this is the 13th! " sighed the only hu- 
 morist in the damp and silent crowd that hastily 
 sought the saloon again and ordered hot drinks 
 to prevent taking cold and steady their shaken 
 nerves. 
 
 " Cut it out ! " snapped a millionaire with a 
 huge solitaire shirt stud. " That 's the nearest 
 you ever came to going to hell ! " 
 
 Lily Trevelyan, trembling and weak and 
 without her coat, hurried along the deck to her 
 213 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 room and threw open the door. The draw- 
 ing-room was empty. 
 
 " Fantine I " she called. " Where are 
 you ? " There was no answer, and Lily en- 
 tered her state-room. 
 
 Fantine was kneeling by the bed with her 
 beads in her hand, praying, and before her lay 
 a tiny pair of baby's shoes. 
 
 Something touched Lily's heart, — something 
 of pity and of jealousy combined. 
 
 " Poor thing! " she thought, and for a mo- 
 ment was tempted to place her arms around 
 the bowed shoulders. Then she drew back in- 
 to her parlor. 
 
 " What 's the use ! " she murmured, and 
 closed the door. 
 
 214 
 
XV 
 
 MICKY PLAYS FATHER CONFESSOR FOR THE 
 SECOND TIME. 
 
 "T UCKY shot! " was the parting salutation 
 1 J of the wireless man on the Saxonia to 
 Micky as she slid into the darkness. " Never 
 come as near as that again 1 " 
 
 " Thanks ! " answered our friend. " I can 
 do without. So long! " 
 
 But it must be admitted that he was quite 
 wabbly as he made his way to the ladder and 
 descended to the deck, in response to an in- 
 stinctive feeling that the passengers who sat at 
 his table were somehow entitled to his encour- 
 agement. He found the second-cabin saloon 
 crowded with a gesticulating and chattering 
 mob of heterogeneous persons, each telling why 
 it had happened and how near they had come to 
 being sunk. A Baptist missionary from Ceylon 
 was vainly endeavoring to organize a prayer 
 meeting, while a commercial traveler from At- 
 215 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 lanta had ordered up a case of beer at the other 
 end of the saloon as a counter demonstration. 
 The bunch held no interest for Micky. The 
 simple fact was that they had had a narrow 
 squeak, and he wanted neither a Hallelujah 
 Chorus nor a Drinking Song as a supplement. 
 He saw his Algerian friend calmly smoking a ci- 
 garette, and the brown-faced chauffeur devour- 
 ing a sandwich. They were all right. Cloud 
 was not to be seen, — he was in his room, prob- 
 ably, unless he 'd tried to swim off to the Sax- 
 onia, — a reckless and entirely improbable sup- 
 position. And Bennett could n't get away. 
 Micky left the saloon intending to go back to 
 his office, smoke a pipe and then turn in. 
 
 As he made the corner of the deck-house, 
 however, a small figure emerged from one of 
 the passageways and caught his arm. It was 
 the Bennett girl. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Fitzpatrickl " she cried. " I 'm 
 so frightened! Is there any danger?" 
 
 " No, of course not 1 " he answered cheerily. 
 " We had a close shave, but it 's all over now ! 
 She 's two miles behind us by this time." 
 
 " O — " she began. Then suddenly she 
 gave way and began to sob pitifully. 
 216 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Poor little girl!" exclaimed Micky, 
 touched to the quick. " Poor little girl I " 
 
 Before he knew it he had taken her in his 
 arms and she was crying hysterically with her 
 head on his shoulder. 
 
 " By George ! This won't do ! " he thought. 
 *' Suppose somebody should walk in on the 
 party unexpectedly ? " 
 
 " Look here, Miss Bennett," he said sooth- 
 ingly. " I 'm afraid we '11 have to go some- 
 where else. You 've had a hard time. You 're 
 all unstrung. But try and brace up 1 " 
 
 The girl attempted to restrain her sobs, but 
 without success. 
 
 " I 'm all alone ! " she cried brokenly. 
 " They won't even let me see my brother ! 
 And I thought we were going down with him 
 locked in his state-room I " 
 
 "Oh, I say!" cried Micky, "you don't 
 mean old Ponsonby refuses to let you talk to 
 him?" 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " Not a word can 
 pass between us. I have n't a soul to speak to. 
 I don't know anybody! And I don't know 
 what to do ! " 
 
 "Poor child!" exclaimed Micky. "Well, 
 
 14 217 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 you just do as I tell you. We 've got to talk, 
 that's sure. Of course I can't go to your 
 state-room, but you come on up to the wire- 
 less house and take a nip of brandy and tell me 
 all about it." 
 
 " Ought I? " she stammered. " You 're the 
 only person who 's been kind to me on the 
 whole boat. Since this morning I have n't left 
 my state-room, but when I thought we were 
 going to be sunk I ran out." 
 . Micky preceded his guest up the ladder and 
 placed a chair for her by the steam pipes. 
 Then he poured out a tiny sip of brandy and 
 handed it to her. 
 
 "Do you, good," he said, smiling. 
 
 She drank the brandy obediently, and wiped 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " you don't know what it is 
 to have one person kind to you when you 're in 
 trouble. And we are in trouble! Of course 
 — why, you're the person that knows most 
 about it, — for it must have come by wireless." 
 
 Micky nodded grimly. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " it came that way. But it 
 would n't have made any difference. They 'd 
 have caught him in New York." 
 218 
 
Before he knew it he had t:iken her in liis arms 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The girl began to cry again softly. 
 
 "He would do It!" she sobbed. "I told 
 him no judge would sentence father if he knew 
 why he 'd done it, — but Jim would do it ! " 
 
 "Who — would do it?" inquired Micky. 
 " Come, you might as well put some confidence 
 in me and let me have the whole story." 
 
 " There 's no particular story," she an- 
 swered. " Father took the money to pay the 
 doctors for mother and send her on the trip to 
 Egypt. You see he 'd been employed there all 
 his life, — but he could n't ask the bank for 
 money. And Sir Penniston Crisp, the great 
 specialist, you know, said mother must have all 
 kinds of care, trained nurses, and so on, and 
 travel. He said she 'd die without them. 
 Well, mother was sixty-one and father was 
 sixty-seven and we only had his salary — two 
 hundred and fifty pounds a year — to live on. 
 But one day he came home and said he 'd had 
 a bit of luck on the exchange and mother could 
 go abroad." 
 
 " I see I " said Micky, 
 
 " That was four years ago ! " went on the 
 girl, gaining confidence as she proceeded. 
 " Mother went to Egypt with a trained nurse 
 
 221 
 
"C. QJ'; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 and spent the winter, and did the same thing 
 the winters following. In the summer we took 
 a cottage at Brighton and had the best special- 
 ists. It must have cost a pile of money. And 
 all that time neither mother nor I ever sus- 
 pected a thing." 
 
 "No, — why should you?" interjected the 
 listener. 
 
 " Then Jim — Jim Chilvers — I was en- 
 gaged to be married to him — " 
 
 She stopped suddenly and looked enquiringly 
 at Micky. 
 
 " Sure, — I understand," said Micky encour- 
 agingly. 
 
 " Jim came to me one day and said he 'd 
 found that father had taken the money from 
 the bank — nearly £5000 — by shifting the 
 securities around some way. I don't under- 
 stand those things. We were to have been 
 married in a month, but Jim explained that 
 they were going to have some kind of an in- 
 vestigation and that the bank would surely find 
 it out." 
 
 She turned a white face to him. Outside 
 the rain beat a ghostly tattoo on the rattling 
 panes. 
 
 222 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Now Sir Penniston had said that any 
 shock might kill mother, and Jim said that the 
 disgrace would kill father, too. He 's an old 
 man, you knowl There was nothing to do, 
 he said, except for him — Jim — to shoulder 
 the blame to save father. He said the only 
 person who made any difference to him was me. 
 As long as I knew he was n't the ordinary sort 
 of criminal he did n't mind. Father would n't 
 hear of it at first, but finally on mother's account 
 he agreed to let me go with Jim. Poor Jim ! 
 He 's got some trouble himself ! I 'm awfully 
 afraid he 's tubercular. So two weeks ago we 
 ran away to Paris — Mother thinks I 'm on a 
 visit in Scotland — and got married and then 
 took the train to Madrid and Gibraltar. 
 There 's a man on board who has followed us 
 all the way from Paris. He sits at our table. 
 Cloud is his name. And' we were terribly 
 afraid he was a detective. Perhaps he is. 
 Maybe that is how Jim came to be arrested." 
 
 " No ! " said Micky. " I know that man. 
 He 's not — a detectivle." 
 
 "Well," she continued, "that's the whole 
 thing. Then one morning Jim and I met Mrs. 
 Trevelyan and the Captain, and she recognized 
 223 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 him. So there we were! And inside an 
 hour Jim was locked up in his state-room 
 under arrest with orders from the Captain 
 to let him talk to nobody. So everything 's 
 over 1 " 
 
 She looked at him helplessly. 
 
 "It is tough 1 " answered Micky with sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 " The hardest part of it all is being kept 
 away from Jim 1 — I don't know why Captain 
 Ponsonby won't let me go to him — I 'm all 
 alone, — ^no one to speak to — ! " 
 
 " Look here ! " said Micky. " You 'd better 
 go down now. I '11 see what I can do. You 
 can't tell. Perhaps everything will come out 
 all right even yet. No one would want to 
 punish him — unless it were the bank." 
 
 " Except the bank I " sighed the girl. 
 
 Micky opened the door. The rain had 
 almost ceased, but the night was as thick as 
 ever. He assisted her down the ladder and 
 to her state-room. On the opposite side of the 
 narrow passage one of the older stewards stood 
 on guard at Bennett's door. He grinned 
 sheepishly at Micky. 
 
 "Jim!" called the girl. "Jim." 
 224 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Beg pardon, Miss ! " interrupted the stew- 
 ard. " It 's against orders ! " 
 
 " It 's a damned outrage ! " retorted Micky. 
 "Tell the Captain to go to hell! Hello, 
 there, Mr. Chilvers ! " 
 
 "Jim! Jim!" repeated the girl hysteric- 
 ally. " Mr. Fitzpatrick is looking after me. 
 Don't worry. I 'm all right. Good night." 
 
 " I '11 do the best I can for both of you ! " 
 added Micky. " Keep up your nerve ! " 
 
 Then he turned to the steward. 
 
 " Now go and tell Ponsonby ! " he cried 
 wrath fully. 
 
 Micky, after bidding good night to Mrs. 
 Chilvers, climbed up the ladder to the wireless 
 house with many conflicting emotions and lit a 
 pipe. Poor Bennett! "Not the ordinary 
 sort of criminal," the girl had said. The very 
 words used by Graeme. " Not the ordinary 
 sort." Was there any " ordinary sort " of 
 criminal, he wondered? If you only knew the 
 truth would n't you always find some reason for 
 their having done what they did, — some ex- 
 tenuating circumstance, — some excuse? No 
 one really wanted to do wrong, he felt sure. 
 
 " I wish I could help these people ! " he 
 225 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 sighed, gazing out into the night through the 
 water-stained windows, 
 
 " I wish I could help 'em ! " he repeated. 
 " And I wish I could do something for Graeme ! 
 — Queer fix all around! " 
 
 He looked at the alarm clock. It was 
 almost time to take the news from Wellfleet. 
 But first he threw over his mains and called up 
 Morrissy on the Berlin. 
 
 "What's doing?" he asked, when he had 
 aroused the whole seaboard with his shower of 
 " C Q's " and cut out all the others except the 
 Lloyd. 
 
 " What 's doing? We have just missed cut- 
 ting the Saxonia in halves." 
 
 " Don't say," returned Morrissy. " We 're 
 at anchor at quarantine. Fog thick as pea 
 soup. Say, that Roakby story is a corker, is n't 
 it? The papers are full of it. — By the way, 
 the first game of the World's Championship 
 series was played to-day and the Athletics 
 batted Matty all over the lot." 
 
 226 
 
XVI 
 
 IN WHICH EVERY MINUTE COUNTS 
 
 THE next day was as thick as ever and the 
 Pavonia poked her way through the fog 
 towards Fire Island in the company of half a 
 dozen other screaming liners with whom Micky 
 kept in constant conversation. Indeed there 
 were so many messages to and from shore that 
 he was busy in the wireless house all the morn- 
 ing and all the afternoon as well, and he had 
 little time to think of either Graeme or Chil- 
 vers. A message had come for the Captain 
 congratulating him on his arrest of the latter, 
 but there was nothing further oiScially about 
 the murder of the Earl of Roakby. Neverthe- 
 less Micky knew that the boat would be 
 searched from keel to crow's nest before she 
 was half way to her dock from quarantine and 
 that if anything was to be done for Graeme it 
 would have to be done within the next few 
 hours. 
 
 227 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The Pavonia had slackened her speed until 
 she was barely making twelve knots an hour, 
 and under the circumstances it was unlikely that 
 she would pick up a pilot before evening, but 
 she kept up a constant whistling in the hope that 
 one might be near by. The passengers, nervous 
 at the delay, tramped up and down the decks or 
 spent hectic hours in their state-rooms endeavor- 
 ing to conceal recent purchases of underwear, 
 lace or dresses under soiled linen or inside 
 other and more ancient belongings. Each was 
 or had been industriously engaged in attempt- 
 ing to outwit the United States government in 
 its effort to enforce the protective tariff for 
 which two out of every three male passengers 
 had voted indirectly at the last election. Fan- 
 tine, by her mistress's instructions made a 
 careful pile of all Lily's newly acquired Paris 
 creations, together with her hats, gloves and 
 lingerie. 
 
 " I 'm going to declare everything I 
 bought ! " she had announced convincingly in 
 the morning when the stewardess had brought 
 in the breakfast. " I 've given up trying to 
 smuggle things — it 's no use, and the duty 
 amounts to very little at the most." 
 228 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Yes, Madam, — it's best not!" answered 
 Dorrance, bobbing and beaming as Lily slipped 
 into her ready palm three golden sovereigns. 
 " Thank you, Madam ! I really don't deserve 
 as much, ma'am ! " 
 
 Lily had hoped and still did hope to see 
 Cosmo and offer to assist him in any way in her 
 power for old friendship's sake, but he had kept 
 studiously out of her way. After all, he was 
 nothing to her. He had killed a man and 
 would have to suffer, if not swing, for it, and 
 the less she had to do with him the better. But 
 a gray depression rivaling that of the atmos- 
 phere outside gradually settled upon her 
 spirits. The voyage had been a lizzie. She 
 had lost money, made a fool of herself with 
 the Captain, and had mixed herself up in two 
 embarrassing criminal affairs. Then there was 
 the necklace ! Should she try to get Micky to 
 take it in for her, or should n't she? She had 
 intended to go up to the wireless house the pre- 
 ceding evening, but the violence of the storm 
 had rendered it out of the question. Her deli- 
 cate evening dress would have been quite 
 ruined, even had she been physically equal to 
 the climb up the slippery ladder in the wind and 
 229 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 rain. Had she done so she would have had 
 more time to make her plans in case he refused 
 to aid her. She must see him that day or at 
 any rate that evening, at the latest ! 
 
 "I don't suppose you pay on much, do 
 you? " Ashurst had asked her. 
 
 " Of course not! " she had replied. " The 
 inspectors all know me and then — " with a 
 laugh — " I never have anything to declare, 
 you know ! " 
 
 " Rather — not ! " he had smirked. " By 
 the way, I suppose Trevelyan will be climbing 
 up the side before long." 
 
 " I hope so ! " she had retorted unsympa- 
 thetically. " I would n't mind seeing his face 
 again. Perhaps you like these interminable 
 trips — I don't! " 
 
 The day wore on with the Pavonia sliding 
 quietly through an oily sea only visible through 
 the fog for the space of a few feet beyond the 
 bowsprit. Just at dusk a shrill whistle from 
 the obscurity announced the presence of a steam 
 pilot boat; the engines ceased throbbing as a 
 white dory came swiftly alongside and the pilot 
 in tarpaulins and rubber boots appeared up the 
 230 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 gangway with a huge bundle of papers in his 
 arms. These he tossed to the Captain's stew- 
 ard and then, dripping, made his way towards 
 the bridge. 
 
 The pilot's dory slid away from the ship's 
 side, the bell rang once in the engine-room, and 
 the Pavonia surged ahead. Micky, looking 
 out of the window of the wireless house, made 
 a rapid calculation. Those papers would be 
 delivered at once to Captain Ponsonby, who 
 would immediately retire to his room, light a 
 big black cigar, remove his boots, and hold a 
 reading fest. The papers were for the last 
 fourteen days. Ponsonby would begin by 
 hunting through them for the accounts of his 
 own exploit. That might take thirty minutes. 
 It was now a quarter after six, and that 
 would make it six forty-five. Dinner was at 
 seven-thirty, and of course Ponsonby would 
 have to go down the last night of the trip. He 
 always shaved himself and was a slow dresser. 
 No, it was unlikely that the Captain would 
 learn of the murder of Roakby before half 
 after eight or nine o'clock. But he certainly 
 would discover it then and begin to suspect that 
 Micky had held back something from him. 
 231 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The ship was now about half an hour from 
 quarantine and it was a question whether or not 
 she would come to anchor before the Captain 
 should learn that he might still add to the luster 
 already surrounding his name by identifying 
 yet another fleeing felon on board his ship. 
 Once at anchor Graeme must swim for it. 
 Micky had already figured out that that was his 
 only chance. With a life preserver or an oar 
 pitched from the last life-boat aft he might, 
 if the tide were favorable, make the Long 
 Island shore. But In the meantime? Suppose 
 Ponsonby stumbled on the Roakby affair the 
 first thing ? 
 
 The ship's bell struck six times and the bugler 
 began simultaneously to blow the first call for 
 dinner. Seven o'clock. It still lacked thirty 
 minutes before the ringing notes of " Roast 
 Beef of Old England " would send the passen- 
 gers In their everyday clothes down into the 
 saloon for their last musty meal at the line's 
 expense. It was the moment when all the pas- 
 sengers were in their state-rooms washing up 
 and brushing their hair, or taking an appetizer 
 at the bar. 
 
 Micky put out the lights in the wireless house 
 233 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 and climbed down the ladder. Graeme's port- 
 hole showed a yellow circle through the fog and 
 he turned the handle of his door and opened it 
 without knocking. Cosmo was sitting on the 
 bunk — writing a letter. His face was ashen. 
 He nodded, finished writing, licked the envel- 
 ope, and sealing it, wrote an address. Then 
 he handed it to Micky. 
 
 " I say, old chap, mail this for me? " he said. 
 " I may n't get a chance. This is my last night 
 of freedom, I fancy." 
 
 " Freedom — fiddlesticks ! " retorted Micky. 
 " I '11 have you safe on shore before midnight 
 — if you don't mind swimming in water that 's 
 a trifle cold." 
 
 Graeme shook his head. 
 
 " I don't mind cold water, but they '11 have 
 me under arrest before we 're within reach of 
 land. By the way, here 's thrippence for the 
 stamp." 
 
 Micky took the three-penny bit and the 
 letter. 
 
 The Hon. Evelyn Arabella Farquhar, 
 
 Toppingham Manor, 
 
 Toppingham, 
 
 Old Stottesbury, Hants. 
 
 233 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 The blood rushed to his freckled face. He 
 had striven to keep this phase of his relation to 
 Graeme in complete abeyance, but now — I It 
 would be his last chance. What if it were n't 
 his business ? Was Graeme the accepted suitor 
 of his Lady of the Order of St. John of Jerusa- 
 lem or not? He opened his mouth as if in 
 interrogation. 
 
 " It 's only a penny to England," he said in 
 a queer voice, fumbling awkwardly in his 
 pocket and producing twopence. " You '11 
 need the change when you get ashore." 
 
 Graeme laughed in spite of himself, and 
 pocketed the two coppers. 
 
 " You 're a queer chap," he said. " Some- 
 how when you are with me I feel as if nothing 
 could happen." 
 
 He hesitated — 
 
 " Do you mind if I give you my watch? 
 I 'd like you to have something of mine. Your 
 taking it would make me feel as if — somehow 
 — you did n't blame me too much for what 
 I 'd done." 
 
 He unhooked his watch from its guard and 
 laid it in Micky's hand. 
 234 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " I '11 exchange with you," said the Marconi 
 man. 
 
 " You 're an understanding sort of fellow," 
 continued Graeme. " Maybe we '11 meet 
 again. I hope so." 
 
 " No," answered Micky. " We shan't ever 
 meet again. But sometime, when you 're min- 
 ing out in Vancouver or farming in Manitoba 
 or trading in the Malay Peninsula, you might 
 look at the name engraved inside my old turnip 
 and drop me a line how you are." 
 
 " Done ! " said Graeme. 
 
 Each snapped on the other's timepiece and 
 Micky laid his hands on his friend's shoulder. 
 
 " Now," said he, " put out your light and 
 follow me up the ladder." 
 
 Graeme turned the switch and, locking the 
 door of his state-room, placed the key in his 
 pocket. No one was on deck. Indeed the 
 night had fallen swiftly and black darkness 
 covered their movements. Micky opened the 
 door of the wireless house stealthily and closed 
 it after them. 
 
 " In about two hours," said he in a whisper, 
 " old Ponsonby will wake up to the fact that 
 '5 235 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOU 
 
 you are on board. Of course he knows yoi 
 Cosmo Graeme. Mrs. Trevelyan's respons 
 for that. Then he '11 probably search the s 
 I 've got to keep you out of the way until 
 can swim for it, and that won't be until W( 
 off Fire Island." 
 
 Behind the bunk was a narrow closet, tol 
 concealed when the door of the wireless hi 
 was open, and amply large enough to conta 
 human being standing. 
 
 " I won't turn on the lights," said Mi 
 " and even if any one comes up there is r 
 chance in a hundred of his finding you. 
 can sit on the bunk, and hide in the closet, i: 
 hear anybody on the ladder." 
 
 Micky sat down at his desk and put th( 
 ceivers to his ears. Instantly he found hin 
 in the midst of a babel of sound. Within 
 miles from New York af nine o'clock at n 
 the ocean is as noisy as a department si 
 Everybody is working all along the coast f 
 Hatteras to Glace Bay, including the five 
 dred amateurs inhabiting New York City, i 
 of whom can send but few of whom can i 
 Thus if they jam no one can explain to < 
 what trouble they are making for everyl 
 236 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 else. Outside the night seemed to be clearing 
 up and the air was carbonizing. He could 
 hear all the big stations shouting at each other 
 and high above the racket the shrill whistle of 
 the quenched spark sets of the Radio Telegraph 
 Company on the Metropolitan Tower. 
 
 " Toot-o-o-t-oot-oot ! " they went, just like a 
 French locomotive. 
 
 Over on the Waldorf old man Pickering 
 was complaining to the operator at the Belle- 
 vue-Stratford in Philadelphia — 
 
 " Oh, you ! You ! You ! Why don't you 
 wake up ? I 've been calling for fifteen min- 
 utes. Don't you know this little hole up here 
 is as hot as Hades? WAP K." 
 
 " Oh, shut up ! " came back from Philadel- 
 phia in the sharp tone of the DeForest wave. 
 "Why can't you give us a rest? Ain't Phila- 
 delphia hotter than Njew York? B S S P." 
 
 Micky laughed. He knew both those fel- 
 lows. Later, when he 'd nothing to do he 'd 
 call up Pickering and get the details of the 
 ball game. 
 
 "AX" (Atlantic City) was trying to get 
 some vessel far out in the gulf-stream and an 
 amateur was answering just for fun. Other 
 237 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 amateurs joined In the ha-ha chorus. Really It 
 was a scandal the way those fellows jammed 
 and got In the way. There ought to be aerial 
 regulations and an American board of super- 
 visors. 
 
 Then the Brooklyn Navy Yard, which uses 
 a rotary spark gap that whines like a gigantic 
 humming-top, began calling Hatteras. Start- 
 ing with a low, angry buzz like a militant 
 mosquito, it rose gradually to high G, soaring 
 Into the acoustic zone like a rocket, and wailing 
 like a lost soul. Micky always liked to listen 
 to the Navy Yard. It did good clean work. 
 
 " HA — HA-HA-NAH " sent the Navy 
 man. (Hatteras — Brooklyn Navy Yard call- 
 ing-) 
 
 "NAH I-I-I (I'm here) G A. (Go 
 
 ahead)," replied Hatteras. 
 
 "HA-AA. MSG (message) CK ii (check 
 eleven words)," answered the Yard. 
 
 " Waldon Torpedo Destroyer Yellow Jacket 
 Hampton Roads. Report at once Brooklyn 
 Navy Yard for repairs and general overhaul- 
 ing. Seavey. PR-NAH." 
 
 " PR — That 's Proctor," mused Micky. 
 
 Hatteras acknowledged the message. 
 238 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "NAH-^ MSG.— OK GB (good-by) 
 HA." 
 
 Then the New York Herald office on the 
 Ferry building at the Battery began calling the 
 New Willard in Washington for Senator 
 Smith, and a lunatic on the Ansonia kept inter- 
 rupting. 
 
 " Please — please — please don't jam! " ex- 
 postulated the Herald. " My message is im- 
 portant." 
 
 " Oh, rats ! " retorted the Ansonia. " Who 's 
 Smith? And who are you, anyhow? Do you 
 think you own the whole air? " 
 
 " Please — please — " whined the Herald. 
 
 " Shut up, boy, and let the Herald talk ! " 
 thundered the deep tones of the United Wire- 
 less at Manhattan Beach. " Mind your own 
 business or we '11 lodge a complaint against 
 you." 
 
 " Ha I Ha ! " mocked the Ansonia. " What 
 can you do, old fuss cat? " 
 
 " Please — please — " kept on the exasper- 
 ated and almost demented Herald. 
 
 " Oh, for God's sake, let somebody work, 
 can't you, kid?" threw in Atlantic City. 
 " You 're getting entirely too gay I " 
 239 
 
"C, Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Listen, everybody! " 
 
 It was DeForest fooling with his radio tele- 
 phone over in Newark. 
 
 " Listen, everybody ! " 
 
 And through the air came clearly the chorus 
 of " There '11 be a hot time in the old town to- 
 night," rendered by a phonograph nearly a 
 hundred miles away. 
 
 "By gad! That's great!" ejaculated 
 Micky. 
 
 " What is ? " asked Graeme from the dark- 
 ness of the bunk. 
 
 " I can hear the Radio Company's phono- 
 graph as plain as if it were on the bridge ! " an- 
 swered Micky. " Wait a minute till I call up 
 the Waldorf and see how the game came out! " 
 
 " WA — WA — WA— " he flashed. "Are 
 you there, Pickering? This is the Pavonia — 
 Fitzpatrick. How about the ball game?" 
 
 "MPA — MPA— Hello, Micky. Glad 
 to see you. Giants won game — one, nothing 
 — eleven innings. Josh Devore knocked a 
 home run. Great work. Say, did you hear 
 that kid at the Ansonia? He makes me sick! 
 Can't hear yourself think some of these even- 
 ings. PK.," answered Pickering. 
 240 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "WA — WA— Thanks. GB. MPH 
 
 — MF.," said Mickey. 
 
 There was an unexpected diminution of speed 
 and the engines of the Pavonia stopped. 
 Through the mist appeared a row of yellow 
 lights. Beyond could be seen the feeble ray 
 of a search-light creeping here and there around 
 the zenith. 
 
 "Quarantine!" cried Micky. "It's now 
 or never ! " 
 
 There was a thunder of running chains, a 
 thud, a roar — and the Pavonia was still. Sud- 
 denly he snatched up the receivers and placed 
 them at his ears. A second or two more and 
 the blue flashes leaped in showers across his 
 spark gap. 
 
 " Do you see those lights? " he whispered in 
 running comment. " Over there to starboard? 
 That 's the Patrie — French Liner — bound 
 for Algiers. Operator is a friend of mine — 
 Gaston Bruyere. She 's waiting for the tide to 
 turn and the fog to lift. To-morrow she '11 be 
 three hundred miles on her way to Africa. 
 What do you say? Will you try it? " 
 \ " How can I get aboard? " asked Graeme. 
 
 " Wait a minute I " 
 
 241 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Again the crackle of the leaping sparks. 
 
 " I 've asked Bruyere to lend you a hand, 
 and he says he will. Wants you to swim 
 around to the starboard chains and he '11 throw 
 you a line. Are you on? " 
 
 " Yes ! " replied Graeme. 
 
 Micky dropped his receivers and turned to 
 where Graeme was sitting in the dark. 
 
 " Ever since that fellow from Sadi-bel-Abas 
 got off all that stuff about the foreign legion 
 I 've had a hunch Africa was the only place for 
 you. This is your chance. You can trust 
 whatever Bruyere says — and you 're safe on 
 board the Frenchman. No extradition papers 
 are valid on the high seas. And it must be a 
 great life — fighting the desert and the 
 Arabs!" 
 
 " I 've thought of it myself — often," an- 
 swered Graeme. " Yes, I '11 take the chance 
 and thank you for it." 
 
 They crept out of the wireless house, climbed 
 down the ladder to the after-deck and side by 
 side walked silently towards the stern — the 
 stern where a week before they two had strug- 
 gled so fiercely together in the moonlight. 
 Not more than two hundred- feet away the 
 242 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Frenchman lay with her nose towards the sea, 
 her lights gleaming, the water pouring from 
 her vents. Graeme took off his coat and waist- 
 coat and held out his hand. 
 
 " God bless you ! " he whispered. 
 
 For the last time Micky turned to ask him 
 a single question — but he did not ask it. 
 
 " Good-by," he answered. " Good luck and 
 God bless you!" 
 
 Graeme lowered himself as far as he could 
 over the stern and dropped. There was a 
 slight splash. A moment more and Micky 
 could see his head bobbing among the waves as 
 he was carried by the tide towards the French- 
 man. Presently he was lost in the darkness. 
 
 " Well ! " sighed Micky to himself. " That 
 disposes of one of them ! " 
 
 He folded the coat and waistcoat into as 
 small a bundle as possible and stole back to the 
 wireless house. 
 
 243 
 
XVII 
 
 THE WAY OF A MAID WITH A MAN 
 
 MICKY slowly climbed his ladder, carry- 
 ing Graeme's clothes on his arm, and 
 wondering what luck the poor devil was hav- 
 ing. He felt sure of Bruyere, and the tide 
 was not so very strong. Anyhow, Graeme had 
 been stroke at Oxford and certainly could 
 take care of himself. Each moment the night 
 was getting thinner and the ports of the French- 
 man gleamed clearer through the drifting 
 haze. Nebulous lights appeared on all sides, 
 indicating where other liners lay awaiting per- 
 mission to enter the channel to the city. Over- 
 head one could almost — almost — see the 
 stars. Hoarse tootings came from the inner 
 harbor, but the noise on the water was nothing 
 hke the noise in the air to which Micky had 
 been listening. A lurid glow high in the 
 sky above the fog showed where Broadway 
 was. 
 
 244 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 From the top of the " Island " he looked 
 down upon a deck swarming with passengers. 
 It had needed only the sound of the chains to 
 bring them scurrying out of their state-rooms 
 and the saloons, eager to get ashore. 
 
 " Cawn't one land presently?" an English 
 valet was enquiring of every one he met. 
 
 The promenade deck was alive with persons 
 who had not hitherto made an appearance, 
 and every seat in the reading-saloon was oc- 
 cupied by persons filling out and signing Cus- 
 toms declarations in anticipation of the morrow. 
 It was time for Micky to get back to his instru- 
 ment, for there would be a big bunch of com- 
 mercials. To-morrow he 'd go ashore, get a 
 Turkish bath and take in the game. 
 
 He opened the door of his office and stepped 
 inside, drawing it to behind him, and as he did 
 so became aware of that same delicate fra- 
 grance of violets that he had noticed the week 
 before when he had awakened from his dream 
 and observed Mrs. Trevelyari|going down the 
 ladder. But this was stronger. Had she 
 been there? 
 
 " Micky! " Lily's voice came from out the 
 darkness. 
 
 345 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Trevelyan!" he stammered. 
 " You here — in the dark? " 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind — if you don't,"- she 
 answered in honied tones. " I love seeing the 
 lights and things — and not being seen. It 's 
 like having on an invisible mask. You can't 
 imagine the relief it is to one who is regarded 
 as a sort of natural curiosity. People are al- 
 ways elongating their necks and nudging one 
 another when I go by." 
 
 " Rubber necks," annotated Micky. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " But between^ you 
 and me the only men who are n't are the ones 
 who are atrophied." She dropped her voice. 
 
 " Micky," she added, " I 've come to say 
 good-by to you. You 've made the voyage so 
 much pleasanter than it otherwise would have 
 been!" 
 
 " It 's been awfully jolly to have you on 
 board," he answered gallantly, a vague un- 
 easiness such as he had felt earlier in their 
 acquaintance again coming over him. " Don't 
 you want me to turn on the lights? " 
 
 " Oh, no 1 " she replied. " Unless it 's 
 against the rules to sit in the dark. Oh, 
 Micky! Won't you be sorry to lose me?" 
 246 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN "THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Why — yes I " he answered truthfully, 
 wqndering what was coming next. She cer- 
 tainly was a wonderful creature. 
 
 " Come over here where I can see your little 
 freckled face I " ordered Lily peremptorily. 
 
 Micky grew hot and his heart thumped the 
 way it had on the stern the day she had 
 taken his hand. The odor of violets grew more 
 and more fragrant — almost suffocating. He 
 drew a stool near her and sat down obediently. 
 
 " Micky! " She lai'd her hand on his arm. 
 "You do like me, don't you?" 
 
 " Of course I do, Mrs. Trevelyan ! " he re- 
 plied, his voice trembling. He could smell 
 now that curious perfume that exuded from her 
 hair — her neck — like a drowsy odor of 
 Araby. " Everyhody does," he added after a 
 moment. 
 
 " Oh, Micky ! Shame on you I That 's 
 not what I want ! " she laughed playfully. 
 " You do, and that 's enough ! Here, you 
 naughty boy! Give me your hand!" 
 
 In the darkness of the wireless house Micky 
 
 felt her soft, gloved hand slide along his arm 
 
 to his wrist and clasp his fingers. He knew 
 
 It was wrong for him to be there. He wanted 
 
 247 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 to cry out — to run away, but he could n't. He 
 was fastened to where he sat as by a spell — 
 by a spell which the enchantress was weaving 
 tighter and tighter every moment. The blood 
 had rushed to his face and neck and his pulse 
 was beating a hundred and fifty to the minute. 
 
 " Micky — dear! " whispered Lily, her hair 
 brushing his lips as she bent forward. 
 
 And before we judge this woman too harshly 
 let us pause to consider that her every action 
 was composed of motives both good and bad, 
 and that her vices were often the virtues of 
 other less virile persons run riot or carried, to 
 an extreme. For Lily Trevelyan was such a 
 creature of caprice, such a weather-cock of 
 emotion, that she responded to every gust of 
 passion, every breath of nobler impulse, with- 
 out much regard to consequences, and often 
 conduct which started with less worthy motives 
 ended in charity, and actions which began in 
 pity ended in love, so that evil and good some- 
 times joined hands and hurried her along her 
 path together. Now while she had come to 
 the wireless house for an unworthy purpose, 
 her infatuation for Micky was as near a pure 
 flame as any she had ever felt. 
 248 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Don't, Mrs. Trevelyan!" he gasped, try- 
 ing to draw away from her; but his head was 
 whirling as he felt her breath on his face. 
 " Mrs. Trevelyan — I — ." 
 
 " Micky dear I You '11 come to see me in 
 New York ? Say you will ! We must n't lose 
 sight of each other entirely." 
 
 " Of course I '11 come," he answered weakly, 
 the blood pounding in his ears. 
 
 " Come day after to-morrow — at five. 
 We '11 have a cup of tea together and talk over 
 old times." 
 
 " Very well." He no longer tried to with- 
 draw his hand. 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Then: 
 
 " Micky ! Will you do something for 
 me?" 
 
 "Why, certainly!" he answered wondering 
 what he could do for her. 
 
 " Bring this box with you." 
 
 She laid the box containing the necklace 
 gently on his knees. 
 
 " You will, — won't you ? " she urged, bend- 
 ing towards him. 
 
 " Is it — all right ? " he asked faintly. 
 
 " Why, Micky ! Of course it 's all right I " 
 249 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 she whispered, and took his other hand in her 
 left. 
 
 And as she did so that strange, inexplicable 
 something — that aura — animal magnetism 
 — what you will — that had held Micky pow- 
 erless suddenly dropped away and in its place 
 there stole over him that physical revulsion he 
 had felt in his dream for the Tove that had 
 swarmed its tentacles over the side and dragged 
 him down into the ocean's depths, and she too 
 felt it depart — knew that the pure had re- 
 volted from the impure, — and that the oil and 
 water of their natures had resolved them- 
 selves again into their own elements, and she 
 drew him to her passionately in one last effort 
 to overwhelm his spiritual instinct with her 
 physical intoxication. 
 
 " Promise me ! " she breathed as he struggled 
 to draw away his hands. 
 
 " Promise me — " 
 
 He wavered. 
 
 There was a stamp of feet outside, the door 
 was thrown rudely open and a ship's lantern 
 held high in the hairy fist of a seaman illumi- 
 nated the wireless house and disclosed Captain 
 Ponsonby glaring at them white with anger. 
 250 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Ex-cMJ^ me ! " he thundered with elaborate 
 sarcasm. " I did not know I was interrupting 
 a — meeting! " 
 
 Lily sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing. 
 
 " Captain Ponsonby ! What do you mean ! 
 You have no right to insult me in this way, a 
 passenger on your ship I " 
 
 " Passengers are not allowed in the wireless 
 house — at this hour ! " he retorted. Then he 
 added with heavy politeness, " May I offer you 
 an escort to your cabin? " 
 
 Mrs. Trevelyan stood before him speechless 
 with fury. Her lace shawl had fallen upon the 
 floor and her yellow hair had been slightly dis- 
 arranged. For the first time Micky saw that 
 she had on evening dress, and that her neck 
 which was quite bare, had blushed as red as 
 he^cheeks. 
 
 "I — I '11 assist Mrs. Trevelyan," inter- 
 rupted Micky. 
 
 "Oh — you will!" roared Captain Pon- 
 sonby. " Then assist her at once 1 " 
 
 He leaned over and turned on the electric 
 lights. Micky stooped and picked up the 
 filmy lace shawl and handed it to Mrs. Trevel- 
 yan. Then he offered her his arm and led her 
 i6 251 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 past the Captain and to the top of the ladder. 
 Lily gave a hollow laugh. 
 
 " Charming fellow — Ponsonby 1 " she re- 
 marked nervously. " No, — don't come down. 
 I can take care of myself. Good-night." 
 
 The Captain and his attendant were leaving 
 the wireless house as Micky turned back and he 
 stood aside to let them pass. Ponsonby did 
 not deign to notice his presence and strode by 
 in haughty silence, but the seaman with the 
 lantern indulged in an expansive grin and a 
 wink that distorted half his face. The glim- 
 mering line of lights that marked the French- ' 
 man suddenly seemed to slide forward. She 
 must be getting off. He threw over his mains, 
 wound up his detector, and hurriedly called the 
 Patrie. 
 
 " Friend arrived safely," flashed back Bru- 
 yere. 
 
 " Thank God ! " muttered Micky, pleased at 
 the sagacious manner in which his fellow 
 operator had veiled his answer. 
 
 " Much obliged. Will write Algiers," he 
 answered. " Good luck and G. B." 
 
 As he removed the receivers something 
 white upon the floor at his feet caught his eye. 
 
 253 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 It was Mrs. Trevelyan's package which she 
 had overlooked in her embarrassment. Per- 
 haps she had not overlooked it. Had he not 
 intimated that he would accede to her request; 
 had he not in fact practically promised to do 
 so? He weighed the package in his hand. 
 
 " There 's only one thing that can be in 
 that," he remarked judicially, " and that 's 
 pearls! " 
 
 Micky had been correct in his supposition 
 that Mrs. Trevelyan's absent-mindedness had 
 been intentional. She had gone to the wireless 
 house with a well-matured plan which con- 
 templated concealing the package somewhere in 
 Micky's chest of drawers provided he did not 
 return during her visit, and of communicating 
 her request to him next day under circumstances 
 which would make it seem discourteous on his 
 part to decline. Should he refuse it was her 
 determination to return to the vessel a day or 
 two later, secure the pearls from him and take 
 therri ashore herself when the Customs in- 
 spectors were no longer on duty. She was 
 wrathful at the Captain for his ill-timed inter- 
 ruption and the hippopotamus-like manner in 
 253 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 which he had burst upon her rendezvous, and 
 she was furious with herself and everybody 
 else at the series of blunders which had char- 
 acterized her crossing. But having determined 
 upon her course she made up her mind to fight 
 it out on that line to the best of her ability. 
 She had already filled out and signed a declara- 
 tion in which no mention of the pearls had 
 been made and this she now sent to the purser's 
 oflUce at the hands of Fantine before going to 
 bed. Micky had her address — the St. Regis 
 — and she would trust to his. honor as a gen- 
 tleman and a sailor. For a moment all thought 
 of Cosmo had vanished from her mind. 
 Meantime the Captain sedulously searched the 
 ship for Graeme but without success. Cer- 
 tainly the man must be somewhere on board — 
 it was only a question of finding his hiding- 
 place, and it never occurred to the honest Pon- 
 sonby that his quarry could at that moment be 
 safely on board a French liner speeding east- 
 ward towards Africa and sound asleep in its 
 wireless house in a uniform belonging to an 
 operator of the Marconi Company. 
 
 254 
 
XVIII 
 
 MRS. TREVELYAN AVAILS HERSELF OF A " LOCU 
 PENITENTIAE " 
 
 THE Pavonia was already under way the 
 next morning when Lily Trevelyan 
 awoke from a nervous and troubled sleep. The 
 fog had cleared and the air sparkled with the 
 brillianqr of autumn. But her discontent and 
 melancholy had not vanished with the mist. 
 Uneasily she wondered if she had not made a 
 mistake in trusting so much to Micky's good 
 nature, — wondered if she had not obviously 
 over-played her hand, — had not given herself 
 away. What if he should hand the package 
 back to her as she was leaving the ship ? What 
 if he opened it, and should choose to feel that 
 she had taken advantage of him? He might 
 even report the matter to the inspectors. No, 
 he would hardly be as treacherous as that — 
 and yet something might so easily go wrong. 
 But now she was committed. Her name was 
 253 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 signed to a declaration intended to defraud the 
 Government and perhaps already in the hands 
 of the Customs' officers. 
 
 She sprang out of bed and called for Fan- 
 tine, but the maid was not there. Where could 
 she have gone? Lily's anxiety increased. 
 Neither was there any response when she rang 
 the bell for the stewardess. Then she re- 
 membered the notice that had been posted stat- 
 ing that breakfast would be served only in the 
 saloon. Hurriedly she began to dress herself 
 without Fantine's customary assistance. But in 
 the midst of her toilet the door opened and 
 the maid, dressed for landing, made her ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 "Oh, Madame!" she cried. Quel Mal- 
 heur. I have overheard the stewardesses tallc- 
 ing. This Dorrance is a detective ! " 
 
 " A what ! " cried Lily faintly. 
 
 " A detective, Madame ! In thje employ of 
 the Government!" answered Fantine with a 
 white face. " And Madame has not declared 
 her pearls?" 
 
 "No," answered her mistress. "Why? 
 They were not purchased abroad — you un- 
 derstand? " 
 
 256 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Qui, Madame," said the maid. " But the 
 stewardess believes them to have been bought 
 in Paris. Oh, Madame ! Last week they put 
 a lady in prison who did not declare her furs." 
 
 Fantine began to wring her hands and walk 
 excitedly up and down the room. Lily turned 
 hot and then cold. Her knees seemed to have 
 lost their strength. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she cried in a tone uncon- 
 vincing even to herself. " Nonsense ! " 
 
 " It is true, Madame ! " wailed Fantine 
 hysterically. " Madam Corwin-Hill was sent 
 to the — comment e'appellez-vous — the se- 
 pulcre — " 
 
 " Tombs " — corrected Lily. 
 
 " And another lady hung herself out of a 
 window for shame and disgrace ! " 
 
 " Stop, you fool ! " almost shouted Lily. 
 " Why do you tell me such things ! " 
 
 But she sank into a chair and ground her 
 nails Into her palms. No, it was too late. 
 The declaration was beyond her control, — 
 and so were the pearls. She must bluff it^ 
 through. 
 
 As soon as she was dressed she stepped out 
 upon the deck into the gorgeous sunlight that 
 257 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 flooded the harbor. The Pavonia was slowly 
 sweeping by the green shores of Bay Ridge. 
 Here and there other huge liners were moving 
 in the same and the opposite direction. The 
 Auguste-Victoria, outward bound, bands play- 
 ing and decks black with swarms of waving 
 passengers, majestically swung past and gave 
 the Pavonia a roar of welcome. 
 
 Fest steht und treu die Wacht 
 Die Wacht am Rhein ! 
 
 But Lily's heart did not thrill at the 'mar- 
 tial strains. It had sunk somewhere far below 
 her waist line. She had a premonition of im- 
 pending disaster — the culmination of an un- 
 fortunate crossing. Neither did the inspiring 
 vision of turreted Manhattan, rising like an 
 island fortress of white marble, from an 
 azure sea, arouse any response in her breast. 
 She had turned to common clay, ready to be 
 shattered at a blow. 
 
 As she stood there at the steamer's side 
 a tug whistling shrilly came darting down 
 channel towards the Pavonia. She looked 
 at it idly, then focused her eyes upon the 
 figure standing in the bow. It was her hus- 
 258 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 band, Hubert Trevelyan, immaculately clad as 
 usual, his iron-grayish hair blowing back over 
 his bald spot, — a tall, rather stoop-shouldered 
 figure, with an anxious, melancholy face. Be- 
 hind him were stationed two other men, — 
 and the sunlight flashed and twinkled from 
 time to time as it caught something upon the 
 breast of each. Fear rose in her throat. 
 Who were these men and why were they with 
 Trevelyan? Were they Customs inspectors, 
 dogging him in order to prevent possible col- 
 lusion as to the necklace? Why had he 
 come down the harbor anyway? Had the 
 declarations already been filed and her de- 
 ception made known? Or had he merely 
 come to warn her against any attempt at evad- 
 ing the law? But already he had seen her 
 and waved his hat passively. In reply she 
 nodded. That was all — the only recognition 
 between husband and wife — separated for four 
 months. The tug cut a wide circle, came up 
 alongside, the companionway was lowered and 
 Trevelyan made his appearance followed by 
 the two officers. Lily did not go to meet him. 
 She only turned in his direction, as he hurried 
 towards her. 
 
 .259 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Hello, TrevelyanI " she remarked in mat- 
 ter-of-fact tones. "Why this excitement?" 
 
 He shook hands with her ceremoniously. 
 
 " I 've come for Chilvers, of course," said 
 he. " I wanted to avoid any publicity at the 
 dock. You received my Marconigram ? Why 
 have n't you got on the necklace ? " 
 
 She choked in spite of herself. 
 
 "I — I — " she stammered in a low tone. 
 "I — have n't got it ! " 
 
 "Haven't got it!" he cried aghast. 
 "Haven't got it! Why not? Where is 
 it?" 
 
 " I have n't declared it," she answered. 
 " Don't be cross with me ! I shall manage. A 
 friend of mine on the boat is going to bring 
 it ashore for me." 
 
 He looked at her in consternation. 
 
 " You must be mad ! " he whispered. " The 
 Customs people know all about that necklace. 
 It 's historic. Its sale was reported next day 
 by cable in New York. It used to belong to 
 the Marquise de Villancourt. You must get 
 it back at once and wear it in." 
 
 " I wish I could," she gasped. " But I 'm 
 afraid it 's too late ! " 
 
 260 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked. "Why 
 too late? " 
 
 " Oh, you would n*t understand," she 
 answered. " I did n't tell him what it was, — 
 but he suspects, do you see? And I really 
 did n't give him a chance to refuse. We 're 
 in his hands, — at his mercy." 
 
 She hurried him to the ladder leading to the 
 wireless house and the eyes of those on' deck 
 followed them curiously, — this joyless aristo- 
 crat and his butterfly! Behind them walked 
 the central office men. 
 
 " You have to go up here," she said. " I 
 left it with the wireless operator." 
 
 Sir Hubert preceded her stiffly up the ladder, 
 and waited while she knocked at the door of 
 the wireless house. In a moment it was 
 opened by Micky Fitz. 
 
 " Oh, good morning, Mrs. Trevelyan ! " he 
 exclaimed in his usual cheerful manner. 
 "What can I do for you?" 
 
 " I wish to present my husband. Sir Hubert 
 Trevelyan," she answered. Micky held out 
 his hand, but the baronet merely bowed. Then 
 a look half of inspiration, half of mischief, 
 crossed Micky's freckled face. 
 261 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Won't you step into my parlor? " he said, 
 politely holding open the door. 
 
 They passed in, leaving the officers outside. 
 
 Sitting on the bunk with her handkerchief to 
 her eyes was the Bennett girl. Mrs. Trevel- 
 yan did not recognize her. 
 
 " Mr. Fitzpatrick, my husband and I have 
 come to find out if you have the package I left 
 here last night," said Lily, formally. She 
 might have been the merest acquaintance. 
 Indeed, from her tone one would have gathered 
 such to have been the case. 
 
 Micky hesitated, and looked inquiringly from 
 one to the other. 
 
 " Yes," echoed Sir Hubert with emphasis. 
 "What I want is my wife's necklace!" 
 
 " Necklace ? " returned Micky innocently. 
 "Was there a necklace in that package?" 
 
 Trevelyan bit his lips, and metaphorically 
 kicked himself for a fool. 
 
 " Yes, — it contained my necklace," said 
 Lily, frankly. " I was trying to smuggle it 
 in. I might as well tell you the truth." 
 
 Micky nodded. 
 
 " Right-o ! " he exclaimed, experiencing one 
 of those quick changes of emotion that Lily 
 262 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Trevelyan could always inspire. " But don't 
 you think you were a bit rash? " 
 
 Trevelyan scowled. 
 
 " We are not here to discuss the wisdom of 
 my wife's course," he remarked coldly. " The 
 only question in which we are interested is 
 whether you Intend to return the necklace at 
 once." 
 
 It would have been quite impossible for 
 Micky to formulate the vague hope which the 
 juxtaposition of Sir Hubert and the wife of 
 the latter's unfortunate employee had sug- 
 gested to him. Indeed, he would undoubtedly 
 have then and there produced and turned over 
 to Lily the package had not the hitherto silent 
 witness behind them created an unexpected 
 diversion, by suddenly swaying and toppling 
 over upon the bunk. Micky darted forward, 
 but Lily had taken in the situation and thrown 
 herself upon her knees by the girl's side. 
 
 "She's fainted!" she cried. "Hand me 
 that pitcher, Micky ! " 
 
 In another moment she was gently bathing 
 the girl's forehead while Micky opened the 
 door and windows. 
 
 " Dear me I " exclaimed Sir Hubert, as he 
 263 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 adjusted his glasses. " Poor child I Poor 
 little thing! Can't I do something? Can't 
 I be of some assistance?" 
 
 He moved around ambiguously, totally help- 
 less, entirely ineffectual. 
 
 The girl on the bunk opened her eyes and 
 fixed them imploringly upon the baronet. 
 
 "You won't — you won't — put Jim in 
 prison?" she pleaded in a weak voice. 
 
 " Er — are you speaking to me?" inquired 
 Trevelyan, in an embarrassed manner. " Who 
 is this young person, may I ask ? " 
 
 " It 's Mrs. Chilvers," said Micky turning to 
 the representative of the Royal Bank of Edin- 
 burgh. " The wife of the man who took that 
 money from your London Branch — that is, he 
 did n't take it, but he was willing to assume 
 the blame for it." 
 
 Trevelyan and his wife both turned to Micky 
 in astonishment. 
 
 " What do you know about it, may I ask? " 
 snapped the baronet, his manner changing 
 abruptly. " That is what she says, I assume." 
 
 " It 's God's own truth 1 " cried the Chilvers 
 girl. " Every word of it ! Father took the 
 264 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 money for medicine and doctors and to send 
 mother to Egypt. Without it she 'd have 
 died." 
 
 " Who is your father? " asked Sir Hubert. 
 
 " Fergus MacPherson," she replied. Trev- 
 elyan seemed stunned. 
 
 " MacPherson I Why, he 's been with the 
 bank for over thirty years I It's impossible! 
 He would n't betray his trust like that ! " he 
 cried angrily. " And why should any one else 
 iWant to shoulder the blame for him ? " 
 
 " On mother's account," answered the girl. 
 " If father had been arrested, the shock would 
 surely have killed her. So Jim — Chilvers — 
 said it was better for him to pretend he was 
 the one. So we ran away, and here we are." 
 
 " Oh, Hubert 1 " groaned Lily in a rush of 
 sympathy. " Don't arrest him ! " 
 
 " A fine fool I 'd make of myself with the 
 directors if I did n't ! " he retorted, the veins 
 in his temples swelling ominously. " I never 
 heard such a cock-and-bull story in my life ! 
 Aged father — dying mother — heroic lover 1 
 No, no 1 I 'm too old a bird to be caught that 
 way. Why, you 've only got this girl's word 
 265 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 for it I No man ever admits that he 's a 
 criminal. If there 's any truth in his yarn let 
 the jury acquit himl " 
 
 "It's true! I swear every word is true!" 
 moaned, the girl. " Are you going to lock hjm 
 up in prison because he was too kind-hearted 
 to let my mother know what father had done? 
 Oh, Sir Hubert ! Have some pity ! And father 
 had worked for you thirty years — thirty 
 years, — and the most he was paid,— at the 
 very end, — was two hundred and fifty pounds 
 a year ! He could n't support us all and edu- 
 cate me, and have proper care for mother on 
 that!" 
 
 " Trevelyan," interrupted Lily, speaking 
 very steadily and clearly, " let me say a word.' 
 I believe this girl. I don't believe her hus- 
 band is a criminal. All I ask you, is not to " 
 be hasty in the matter. Save him the humilia,-- 
 tion of an arrest and have his story investi- 
 gated. The directors certainly would not want 
 to punish an innocent man, and they probably 
 wouldn't want to prosecute old Fergus Mac 
 Pherson under the circumstances." 
 
 "But my duty!" returned Trevelyan dog- 
 gedly. " How about my duty ? Are we to 
 266 
 

 f^ — - C_<o-^ 
 
 'It's true! I swear every Wurd is true!" moaneU the yirl 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 let people commit crime without being punished 
 for it?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Sir Hubert," said 
 Micky quietly. " I believe you were asking 
 for Mrs. Trevelyan's necklace. Here it is — 
 without any strings to it, either." 
 
 Trevelyan turned a deep red. 
 
 " Hubert," murmured Lily, " do you know 
 whom I thought those officers were coming for ? 
 I thought they were going to arrest a woman 
 for attempting to violate the Customs laws. 
 She was guilty^ too. But it turned out they 
 were after a poor fellow who had committed 
 no crime at all. Can't you* do something for 
 him, Trevelyan? Let him go I Let them 
 start life over again somewhere else! Do it 
 for me ! I ask you I For me ! " 
 
 Trevelyan gnawed his mustache and looked 
 nervously out of the window. 
 
 " Of course," he stammered, " I have no per- 
 sonal feeling in the matter. On the contrary, 
 I am very much affected by what the young 
 woman tells me. But the writ has been issued 
 and the warrant will have to be served." 
 
 " Excuse me," contradicted Micky. " Ex- 
 tradition is simply a courtesy extended by one 
 '7 269 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 country to another. If the complainants re- 
 quest it the warrant need not be served. It 's 
 up to you ! " 
 
 " Nevertheless," answered Sir Hubert, " I 
 shall not interfere. The law must take its 
 course. Later on we will see what can be 
 done." 
 
 Micky shrugged his shoulders, while the 
 Chilvers girl threw herself upon the bunk and 
 burst into a torrent of weeping. 
 
 Trevelyan started towards the door, but be- 
 fore reaching it, he turned. 
 
 " However, — in view of all the circum- 
 stances I will take the matter up with our local 
 board before sending Chilvers back to Eng- 
 land," he said gruffly. " Meantime I will with- 
 hold the warrant, and merely keep him under 
 surveillance. But I warn you," he looked 
 sternly at Mrs. Chilvers, " that this is only 
 temporary and that the chances are we shall 
 allow the extradition proceedings to be carried 
 through." 
 
 He walked out sententlously. 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " cried Lily. " He thinks he 
 means it, — but he does n't. He 's all for law 
 and order and all that sort of thing — 
 270 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 theoretically. But he '11 cool off. I promise 
 you — I promise you, that nothing shall hap- 
 pen to Chilvers. You can trust me for that. 
 I '11 make him see the truth ! " 
 
 Her face was set in determination. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! Thank you ! " cried the 
 girl. " You 're the best woman in the 
 world!" 
 
 Lily smiled a sphinx-like smile. 
 
 " Sometimes I am," she said, " and some- 
 times I 'm the worst. If you don't believe it 
 ask Mr. Fitzpatrick." 
 
 " You 're the best to-day, anyhow," retorted 
 Micky. " We shall hold you to your promise." 
 
 Outside Trevelyan was endeavoring to ex- 
 plain the situation as best he could in high- 
 pitched English tones to two very much as- 
 tonished central office men. He desired 
 obviously to carry out the law as far as possible 
 without carrying it out. There are many ad- 
 mirable people just like him. 
 
 " So you see, my good man, I shan't need 
 you for the present, do you understand?" 
 
 -'All right, boss!" repHed the puzzled 
 officer, touching his cap as he pocketed the 
 twenty-dollar bill which Sir Hubert handed 
 271 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 him. " I '11 call up the District Attorney and 
 tell him what you say." 
 
 Lily was an amused spectator of her hus- 
 band's encounter with the officials of the law. 
 
 " You rascal, Micky! " she laughed. " You 
 little blackmailer ! Do you know you Ve really 
 made my husband act like a sensible human 
 being. And if he dares to change his mind — ! 
 Well, let him look out." 
 
 She nodded to the girl and started to join 
 her husband. 
 
 " Micky," she added over her shoulder, 
 "don't forget our engagement — to-morrow 
 afternoon at the St. Regis — at five oclock 
 precisely." 
 
 Micky laughed and touched his cap to her. 
 
 " I fancy everything is all right, Mrs. 
 Chilvers," he said. 
 
 272 
 
XIX 
 
 IN WHICH THE RAT-FACED PURSER, SOME OTHERS, 
 AND PERHAPS THE READER, RECEIVE A JOLT 
 
 THE great ship steamed up the channel, 
 swung round the Battery and Into the 
 North River amid a throng of shrieking tugs 
 and ferry-boats. The marble turrets of the 
 lower Island rose against the blue like the 
 dream towers of Maxfield Parrish's imagina- 
 tion in his picture of the " Dinky Bird." 
 
 In an ocean, 'way out yonder 
 (As all sapient people know), 
 
 Is the land of Wonder-Wander, 
 Whither children love to go. 
 
 Nearer the river the vision lost its romance, 
 even if it retained its inspiration, and huge signs 
 emphasizing the admirable qualities of pickles, 
 pattern concerns, and stove polish reared their 
 gigantic frames skyward. Across on the New 
 273 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Jersey side the congestion was as great, but of 
 a somewhat lower order, and more smoky. 
 The glittering surface of the river was covered 
 with swiftly moving boats and launches which 
 projected themselves in all directions with the 
 velocity and manner of water beetles on a mud 
 pond. The air was charged with a deep up- 
 roar in which mingled the whistles of factories, 
 locomotive engines, freighters and ocean liners, 
 their tones rising from the deep diapason of 
 the leviathan to the shrill scream of the motor 
 boat. Even half a mile from shore the air 
 was electric with the thrill and bustle of lower 
 Broadway. The island irradiated good nature. 
 The whole ship's company experienced an el- 
 evation of spirit. Tongues carefully restrained 
 for fear of encouraging undesirable acquaint- 
 anceships were loosened to chatter recklessly 
 with persons whose only claim to recognition 
 was that they had been upon the same boat 
 for fourteen days. The little hunchback was 
 hobbling around everywhere, thanking people 
 for having been so kind to him. First and 
 second cabin alike massed themselves forward 
 striving to distinguish through inferior glasses 
 relatives or friends supposed to be awaiting 
 274 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 their arrival upon a dock as yet over a mile 
 distant. The second steward appeared walking 
 ostentatiously in the vicinity of the more 
 wealthy passengers, and state-room stewards and 
 stewardesses hurried anxiously about the decks 
 looking for patrons who had forgotten them. 
 Ladies who had arrayed themselves like last 
 year's scarecrows during the voyage appeared 
 in crinkly Parisian garments with marvelous 
 hats and heavily embroidered veils, and an el- 
 derly woman whose rnqttled __f eatures had 
 be en all si cklied o^er with a more__than 
 pale cast of thought during the past two 
 weeks now burst forth in a white serge costume 
 and an entirely new countenance bearing the 
 vivid imitation of rosy youth. On her feet she 
 wore shapely pointed patent-leather shoes abso- 
 lutely new, which creaked loudly as she walked ; 
 and in her large white-gloved hand she carried 
 a leather-covered parrot cage with a flap 
 fastened by a brass buckle. When a momen- 
 tary lull occurred the occupant could be heard 
 crooning and chuckling to himself. 
 
 Everybody was talking to everybody else. 
 Now that the trip was over and the shore 
 close at hand people seemed to be rather sorry 
 275 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 that they had not taken greater advantage of 
 their opportunities to make themselves agree- 
 able. Many felt a passing tinge of disappoint- 
 ment that the journey was not a day or so 
 longer. The even keel of the ship and the 
 present solidity of her decks caused a tempo- 
 rary forgetfulness of recent intestinal experi- 
 ences, and dimmed the virtues of Father Sill's 
 Celebrated Sea-Sick Remedy in which the barber 
 had done a thriving trade throughout the voy- 
 age at two bob six per box. 
 
 Ponsonby, bursting with pride over the repro- 
 duction of his purple face on the front page of 
 a morning edition, strode up and down the 
 bridge, smoking the remaining shilling cigar. 
 Chauffeurs and valets down on the second-cabin 
 deck renewed their attentions, which had lagged 
 somewhat during the dead waste and middle of 
 the voyage, to the various ladies of their choice 
 and made definite engagements, positive and 
 binding, for the next Saturday afternoon 
 out. Business men with pencil and paper in 
 their hands sat figuring and wondering how long 
 it would be before they could reach their offices ; 
 passengers for Boston and Chicago pensively 
 studied railroad folders; and the champagne 
 276 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 drummer distributed cards to all his acquaint- 
 ances recommending "our special cuvee 19 ii 
 Brut at $24.00 per case of pints." 
 
 People forgot that they had been across the 
 ocean or on the sea at all, their minds being 
 filled with disquieting thoughts anent get- 
 ting through the Customs. Little girls wor- 
 ried about being late to school. Little boys ut- 
 tered horrible swear words at having to go 
 back at all. Everything was jam, bustle, con- 
 fusion. The baggage was piled in a towering 
 mass by the second-cabin gangway, and a hun- 
 dred more of the crew stood idly waiting to hus- 
 tle it ashore at the proper moment. Intelligent 
 men and women gained intense pleasure from 
 recognizing a particular piece of their baggage 
 among the ruck, although it had reposed in 
 their state-room but an hour before. 
 
 It seemed hours before the Pavonia slowly 
 began to turn her nose to the dock, assj^ted by 
 a dozen puffing tugs who rammed her with 
 padded bows in order to make a shorter corner. 
 At an opening at the end of the Gunard pier 
 could be seen a multitude of tiny heads. 
 
 " There 's John, I know it is ! "cried the par- 
 .rot lady, wildly waving her handkerchief, al- 
 
 277 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 though she was firmly wedged among a crowd 
 oi at least fifty other persons. With exasper- 
 ating deliberation the steamer floated dockward, 
 foot by foot. The heads at the end of the pier 
 grew bigger and bigger. 
 
 . " Why, it is n't John at all! " exclaimed the 
 chagrined lady. " I never saw that man before 
 in my life." 
 
 With streams of water pouring from her 
 vents down her huge black sides the Pavonia 
 was shoved, pushed and hauled into her moor- 
 ings amid a terrific bellowing of orders from 
 the bridge. The relatives and friends on the 
 dock, having recognized with ostentatious ex- 
 citement the relatives and friends on board, re- 
 peated the exchange of salutations from moment 
 to moment in a gradual diminuendo of enthu- , 
 siasm. 
 
 "Hello! Hello! Mary! Here I am!" 
 "Hello, old sport!" "Have a good trip?" 
 " Fine ! " " Hello, father — hello ! " " Yes ! 
 Got it in my bag!" "Yes! Oh, fine!" 
 " How 's maw! " " Rotten! Yes, I lost her 
 overboard — " " Oh, yes, Rome was great, but 
 you oughter see Parus — it was simply fine ! — ' 
 fine!" "Yes! I see her! She's fine! — 
 278 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 ^«^/"—" Perfectly lovely!"— "No, / 
 was n't sick, but lots of 'em were ! " 
 
 These and a hundred thousand other plati- 
 tudes, banalities and witticisms were bawled, 
 shouted and shrieked across the intervening 
 forty feet of water, accompanied by extraor- 
 dinary contortions of body, and by the most 
 horrible mouthings, grimaces and gesticulations 
 while the Pavon'ta was made fast and her gang- 
 planks run ashore. 
 
 Then they all began to crowd down the gang- 
 ways, and that pitiable and enlightening specta- 
 cle — the great American public struggling with 
 Its individual conscience — began. 
 
 All this time Micky sat aloft in his little cage, 
 smoking his pipe and taking in the scene with 
 huge enjoyment. He was in no hurry to go 
 ashore. In fact, unless he were fooling with 
 horses, he 'd rather be on a boat, even with 
 nothing to do, than hanging around town any 
 day in the week. He saw with mingled feelings 
 Lily and her husband, followed by Fantine, 
 edge their way down the gang-plank and dis- 
 appear in the covered shed of the pier. She 
 was really a good sort, but — ! There was a 
 something about her — he could n't explain it 
 279 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 — not just right. He wrinkled his freckled 
 nose. What was it always told him about such 
 women ? 
 
 He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, 
 pulled out the drawer of his desk and 
 searched around among the pile of miscellane- 
 ous papers with which it was littered. With 
 some difficulty he found what he was looking 
 for. He placed the photograph on his knee 
 and looked into Evelyn Farquhar's young face 
 with its arch glance and half parted lips. Now 
 she was just as full of fun as Mrs. Trevelyan, — 
 just as lively, just as jolly a companion, yet she 
 was cut out of clean, whole cloth. She had no 
 flighty fits of temper. She was always the 
 same. Always the same — ? His lips quiv- 
 ered. How could his little girl have forgotten 
 her ring and her promise ? Could she with her 
 true nature have chucked him for even so fine a 
 chap as Cosmo Graeme had been ? Could she 
 have given herself to another after their part- 
 ing in the grove behind the gamekeeper's? His 
 heart told him no, yet he had heard it from one 
 who should know. " I leave you engaged to be 
 married to Evelyn Farquhar, one of the loveli- 
 est girls in all England," Mrs. Trevelyan had 
 280 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 said to Graeme in the moonlight. Well, it was 
 true that his Lady of the Order of St. John of 
 Jerusalem was the loveliest girl in all England, 
 and — perhaps — it was true also that she had 
 been engaged to this other man. But now — 
 now, what? Graeme was out of it. He might 
 have won the race but he had passed out before 
 he could claim the prize. That bloody old 
 earl! Micky ground his teeth through the 
 tears that would come in spite of him. 
 
 "Hello, Micky!" said Binks, sticking his 
 head in the door. " 'Ere 's a pyper in ex- 
 change for that Pink 'Un you gave me ! Goin' 
 ashore? " 
 
 " Thanks, old chap ! " replied Micky. " No 
 — not just yet." 
 
 " Say, — those hofficers is 'avin' a great 'unt 
 for that fellow Cloud," continued Binks. " Hit 
 turns out 'e 's a murderer. Killed the bloomin' 
 Hearl o' Roakby ! An' blime if 'e ain't just dis- 
 appeared entire — without so much as a by yer 
 leave ! " 
 
 "Well, let 'em look!" retorted Micky. 
 " What 's to have prevented his jumping over- 
 board and goin' ashore ? " 
 
 " Dunno," answered Binks. " By the way, 
 281 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 the third match of the champean series be- 
 tween Noo York and Philadelphia is goin' to 
 be played off this afternoon. Wanter come 
 along? " 
 
 " Should n't wonder," answered Micky. 
 " Stick your head in here before you start, will 
 you?" 
 
 Binks departed down the ladder and Micky 
 lazily opened the paper, but he found little in it 
 to excite his interest since he had heard most of 
 the news through the air the evening before and 
 during the early morning. Sheet after sheet 
 he scanned of murder mysteries, divorce ac- 
 tions, run-overs, and political upheavals until 
 on the fourteenth page his eye caught a column 
 entitled, " Social Gotham," with the sub-head- 
 ing of " Earl of Toppingham visits America." 
 
 "Humph!" thought Micky. "The old 
 scallywag ! What does he want to visit Amer- 
 ica for?" He ran down the column. To- 
 wards the bottom appeared the following : 
 
 The Right Hon. Earl of Toppingham, accompanied 
 
 by his granddaughter the Hon. Evelyn Arabella Farqu- 
 
 har, is stopping for a few days at the Plaza preparatory 
 
 to making a trip over the Canadian Pacific to Van- 
 
 282 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 couver, and thence to Japan and India, where his eldest 
 son is in command of a division of the regular army. 
 The party consists of the Earl, his granddaughter, a 
 secretary, valet and maid. It is the Earl's intention to 
 first visit Niagara before proceeding west. His lord- 
 ship expresses himself as much pleased with our country, 
 but comments unfavorably upon the rates of cab hire, 
 the prevalence of pictorial advertising, and the character 
 of the Broadway musical shows. The Hon. Evelyn 
 Farquhar is a well-known favorite in London society 
 and her engagement to Cosmo Graeme, youngest son of 
 Lord Conynfort, who disappeared two weeks ago after 
 the Roakby murder, has been announced. It is sup- 
 ' posed that the visit of the Earl is upon his granddaugh- 
 ter's account and for the purpose of diverting her mind 
 by a prolonged journey in the Far East. 
 
 Micky swung his feet to the floor and sat 
 bolt upright. The alarm clock before him 
 pointed to ten minutes past twelve. The pas- 
 sengers were all safely down the gang-plank 
 and still engaged in combat with the inspectors. 
 He felt in his pocket for change, grabbed his 
 faded cap from its hook and ran down the lad- 
 der. On the main deck he met Binks. 
 
 " Sorry," he said, as he hurried by, " I find I 
 can't go with you this afternoon. Got another 
 engagement." 
 
 283 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Oh, you have, have you? " remarked Binks 
 suspiciously. " Wot 's her name? " 
 
 " None of your blooming business I " re- 
 torted Micky, turning the color of a tomato. 
 Then he escaped down the gang-plank and par- 
 rying the questions of the guardian at the gate 
 hurried across to Ninth Avenue. Panting, he 
 stumbled up the two long flights of metallic 
 steps and struggled through the turn-style oper- 
 ated upon the elevated platform by an unshaven 
 negro in a cinnamon-colored uniform. 
 
 With his eye staring vacantly at the seat in 
 front of him he was whirled northward on a 
 level with the second stories of sweat-shops and 
 tenements, out of the windows of which hung 
 in unconscious fashion slatternly women in loose 
 calico garments. But he saw them not. The 
 train swung grinding around a long pair of 
 curves, throwing him first this way and then 
 that, a couple of Russian Poles reeking of garlic 
 and gurgling volubly at each other jostled him, 
 a fat woman in a white shirt waist with blue 
 polka dots took the seat beside him and smoth- 
 ered him behind her enormous bulk, the passen- 
 gers came and went, got up and sat down, 
 lurched forward and back, gates slammed, the 
 284 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 engine jerked, the conductor shouted nasally, — 
 but Micky neither heard, saw, nor smelt them. 
 He saw only a broad green English lawn across 
 which stretched the purple shadows of oaks 
 centuries old. The evening air was sweet with 
 the scent of flowers, and the sunlight still lin- 
 gered on the tree trunks among which stood a 
 slender, wistful girl in a white frock with her 
 arms outstretched to him, a brave smile on her 
 lips, trying to keep back her tears — this was 
 the vision sent to his yearning eyes amid the 
 squalor and hubbub of the elevated, and all that 
 he heard was a tender, girlish voice saying, 
 "Good-by, Micky dear!" 
 
 It was exactly three minutes of one when 
 there entered the Plaza Hotel from the 59th 
 Street side a somewhat short, freckled faced, 
 auburn-haired, and anxious-looking young per- 
 son in a shabby blue unifo»^m. The sleek youth 
 at the revolving doors looked at him doubtfully. 
 
 " Whodoyerw(2«/.^ " he shot at him. 
 
 But Micky was already at the marble-topped 
 desk with his eye fixed on the elegant frock- 
 coated figure that lounged behind it. The fig- 
 ure continued to lounge even after Micky had 
 accosted him. 
 
 «8 285 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Earl of Toppingham? Sure, he 's staying 
 here. What do you want to see him about? " 
 answered the clerk, eyeing him condescendingly. 
 
 Micky clenched his fists. He would have 
 liked to knock the fellow's block off. 
 
 " I wish to see Miss Farquhar," he growled, 
 controlling himself. 
 
 " Oh, you do ? Well, how do you know 
 she '11 see you?" inquired the clerk, who spoke 
 as if Micky should have applied for admission 
 to the hotel at the kitchen entrance. 
 
 " I '11 take a chance on it," he muttered. 
 " Give me a blank card, — Lord Algernon." 
 
 The clerk glared at him, but haughtily indi- 
 cated a receptacle containing cards. 
 
 Micky wrote something upon one of them, 
 carefully enclosed it in an envelope, sealed and 
 addressed it, and delivered it to a hall-boy, to- 
 gether with half a crown. Then he stared the 
 clerk out of countenance and took a seat in 
 a grove of potted palms. The boy was gone 
 about ten minutes. Then he appeared, looking 
 eagerly in every direction. 
 
 " Come right up," he said, nodding hospi- 
 tably. 
 
 Micky stumbled after his guide, Into a 
 286 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 bronze-gilt elevator half full of big hatted 
 ladies, that shot him up swiftly into regions of 
 eternal peace, smelling of buttered toast and 
 Axminster carpets. He was evacuated into a 
 dark hall at which a fluffy-haired girl sat at a 
 small telephone desk and a couple of Corsican 
 Brothers in fierce mustaches stood motionless 
 in dress suits. 
 
 " Thees way, saire ! " said one of them with a 
 majestic wave of his hand. 
 
 Micky followed along miles and miles of 
 highly polished hall to a mahogany door. His 
 guide turned a handle that caused the feeble im- 
 itation of a decrepit alarm clock on the inside. 
 The door was opened by Morley, the gray- 
 haired valet of the Earl of Toppingham, who 
 unemotionally took Micky's cap and preceded 
 him to another door, knocked, and left him. 
 
 " Come in," said the Hon. Miss Evelyn. 
 
 Micky felt the blood rush to his eyes and 
 .head. Suppose the Earl should be inside there, 
 too. He felt himself choking. 
 
 " Don't be a blooming ass ! " he muttered and 
 turned the handle. 
 
 It was a big room furnished severely but ex- 
 pensively, and there was no one there except a 
 287 
 
"C. Q.»; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 young lady standing by the window in a trim 
 gray walking suit, her golden — really golden 
 — hair neatly done up under a small but rakish 
 hat. It was not his Lady of the Order of St. 
 John of Jerusalem, but another, — a glorified, 
 an apotheosized Evelyn, only her eyes and lips 
 were the same. She stood quite still staring at 
 him in a sort of half wonder, and he approached 
 her speechless. 
 
 " Micky ! " she gasped. " I thought you 
 must be dead! " 
 
 " Is that why you did n't answer my' let- 
 ters ? " he asked stiffly. 
 
 " But I did," she replied tremulously — r" all 
 I got. — I only received three. And I went 
 on writing to you just the same. Have n't you 
 got them? " 
 
 " None," answered Micky with a lump in his 
 throat. " Oh, Evvy I I have n't had any- 
 thing but that postal from Cortina ! " 
 
 "You poor boy!" she exclaimed, coming 
 towards him. He started forward, question- 
 ing her with swimming eyes. 
 
 " Then you 're not engaged to Cosmo 
 Graeme? " 
 
 " No — of course not ! " she cried with a lit- 
 288 
 
"Micky!" she gasped, "I thought you must be dead!" 
 
" C. Q." ; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 tie laugh that was half a sob. " How could I 
 be when I 'm engaged — to some one else ? " 
 
 That most sedately correct person, Mr. Jon- 
 athan Morley, several times poked his head in- 
 side the door to announce that lunch was ready 
 and each time discreetly withdrew it. His 
 lordship had gone down town to attend a mid- 
 day banquet in his honor given by the Chamber 
 of Commerce, and Mr. Morley did not feel at 
 all at his ease with respect to what he observed 
 in the drawing-room of his master. More es- 
 pecially, however, his conscience began to smite 
 him for having arranged for the abstraction of 
 the letters of the pair inside who, he observed, 
 were quite oblivious of his existence, — of ev- 
 erything, in fact, except each other. The 
 luncheon grew cold, — colder, — stone cold. 
 At the end of an hour Mr. Morley regretfully 
 ordered its removal, and retired to his lord- 
 ship's bed-chamber to lay out the evening clothes 
 of his master. 
 
 In the embrasure of the window these two 
 babes in the wood sat in much the same posture 
 that they had occupied in the grove behind the 
 gamekeeper's on that memorable afternoon 
 three years before. 
 
 291 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " You must never, never leave me now, 
 Micky dear," whispered the Hon. Evelyn. 
 " Promise me ! " 
 
 The words brought back to him the scene of 
 the night before and the woman who had spo- 
 ken them. For an instant the form of Mrs. 
 Trevelyan swam before him. And he had an 
 appointment with her at 5 o'clock! At least 
 she thought he had. 
 
 "I've been so lonely!" added Evelyn. 
 " Grandpa has been utterly unreasonable. 
 Why, he used to instruct me just what I was to 
 say to different people — imagine ! And I 'm 
 sure he gave it out that I was engaged to 
 Cosmo." 
 
 " The old ruffian ! " answered Micky, patting 
 the back of her hand. " But poor old chap, 
 perhaps he was right. I might have become an 
 awful bounder, you know, batting around this 
 way all over the globe. But I 'm going to set- 
 tle down now ; — and I 'm going to find your 
 letters if I have to visit every Marconi office 
 in the civilized world ! " 
 
 " But you 've enjoyed it, have n't you? " she 
 teased him. 
 
 292 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Enjoyed it! — have you?" he answered 
 reprovingly. 
 
 He drew her to him and kissed the lips that 
 quivered and smiled at the same time. 
 
 " Lunch ! " she suddenly exclaimed, disen- 
 gaging herself from his arms. " Why, it 's 
 half-past two ! " 
 
 "Oh, hang the lunch!" answered Micky. 
 " Let 's cut it out and go for a drive. We can 
 get tea somewhere." 
 
 A moment later the much scandalized Morley 
 saw his mistress depart with her shabby visitor. 
 He shook his head resignedly. 
 
 " Hit 's no use kickin' against the pricks ! " 
 he ruminated sadly as they entered the elevator 
 and the bronze door clashed to behind them. 
 " What is written is written ! I wonder what 
 his lordship '11 say when he comes back! " 
 
 The elegant young man in the office almost 
 lost his balance as he saw the Hon. Evelyn 
 Arabella Farquhar and her escort pass uncon- 
 cernedly through the hall and enter a hansom, 
 and his excitement was shared in almost equal 
 degree by the sleek youth at the revolving door 
 and the six-foot starter on the sidewalk. 
 293 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "Where to, sir?" asked that stately person 
 touching his cap respectfully. 
 
 " Oh, anywhere ! " answered Micky casually. 
 " Anywhere that '11 take until about half after 
 six to get back from." 
 
 "Very good, sir!" gasped the starter. 
 " Yonkers! " said he to the cabby with a grin 
 behind his gloved hand. 
 
 The Right Hon. the Earl of Toppingham 
 did not return to the hotel until nearly five 
 o'clock. He was somewhat out of temper as 
 his taxicab had collided with a brewery wagon 
 and he had been obliged to give his name, occu- 
 pation and address to an assiduous policeman, 
 very much to his disgust. He had also essayed 
 to walk from the scene of the disaster and had 
 lost himself in the neighborhood of the East 
 River. 
 
 Morley followed him deprecatingly into his 
 bedroom and coughed suggestively. 
 
 " Mr. Michael has turned hup, sir," he said 
 in well-considered tones. 
 
 "What!" ejaculated the noble Earl. 
 "Here?" 
 
 "Just so, sir!" replied Morley regretfully. 
 " And I should tell your lordship that Miss 
 294 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Farquhar went out with him at 'arf after two, 
 sir, and 'as not yet returned, sir." 
 
 The Earl of Toppingham made no reply. 
 Then with his back to Morley he said: 
 
 " Have you still got all those letters ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord." 
 
 " Well, give them to me," directed his mas- 
 ter. " I may be able to arrange to have them 
 delivered." 
 
 Then the Earl of Toppingham, who was 
 really a nice old man according to his lights, 
 went alone into the drawing-room, and hav- 
 ing lit a very cheap and nasty cigar, stood look- 
 ing out over the waving tree-tops in the park 
 for upwards of an hour, and he was still watch" 
 ing the lines of misty lights that circled among 
 the foliage or marched in double columns along 
 its boundaries when the door opened and 
 Evelyn came in. 
 
 " Hello, grandpa ! " she cried, going over 
 and putting her arms around his neck. " I sup- 
 pose Morley has told you the whole thing? " 
 
 His lordship bent and kissed her flushed 
 cheeks. 
 
 "My little Evvy!" he whispered. "My 
 little Ewy ! " 
 
 295 
 
"C, Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir ! " called the astonished 
 cabby after Micky as the latter was leaving the 
 steps of the Plaza just as the Hon. Evelyn had 
 entered her apartment on the twenty-fifth floor. 
 
 " Ain't yer goin' to pay me ? This here old 
 hoss is clean played out." 
 
 Micky stopped short and thrust his hands 
 into his pockets one after the other. 
 
 " How much is it? " he inquired calmly. 
 
 " Thirteen dollars and seventy-five cents," 
 answered the cabby. 
 
 " Is that all? " said Micky. " That 's much 
 too cheap. I should n't think you could feed 
 the horse on that, — apart from yourself. But, 
 you know, I have n't any small change about 
 
 me. 
 
 "Eh!" cried the cabby. "What are you 
 givin' me? " 
 
 " Charge it to the Earl of Toppingham ! " 
 said Micky, lighting a cigarette. 
 
 " Charge nuthin' ! " shouted the cabman. 
 " You give me my money! " 
 
 Then as the starter approached in lofty 
 dignity he turned to him in aggrieved and whin- 
 ing tones. 
 
 " Say, guvnor, this guy 'ere tells me to hang 
 296 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 up his bill to the Earl of Toppingham. 
 Would n't that jar you? " 
 
 " Oh, well," retorted Micky, climbing into 
 the cab, " drive me down to the Cunard 
 Pier!" 
 
 As they jogged along Fifth Avenue the elec- 
 tric lights flashed out in pale blue lines and the 
 tops of the tall buildings faded into the darken- 
 ing sky. He had finished his last cruise ! His 
 job with the Marconi Company was over. The 
 leggy little girl with the big dog was his ! And 
 there was poor Cosmo racing across the sea to 
 fight the niggers in Africa under a blazing sun 
 while he — he was going back to England — 
 dear, rotten old England, as Graeme had called 
 it, to begin a new and very different life, a life 
 of responsibility, of gravity, he hoped of useful- 
 ness — with Evelyn beside him. It had been 
 a strange mix-up, yet it had all come out better 
 than any one could have expected. And the 
 strangest feature of it all had been the way in 
 which Fate had chucked him and Graeme to- 
 gether. 
 
 Across the way blazed the windows of the 
 St. Regis, reminding him of his quasi-engage- 
 ment with Mrs. Trevelyan for five o'clock. 
 297 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Should he keep the appointment? Could he 
 do so, just having left the girl he was going to 
 marry, with the touch of her lips still lingering 
 upon his? He shook his head. No, let her 
 go! That passage in his sailor life was well 
 over. Besides, the fact of his new position in 
 society at large would lead her surely into some 
 ridiculous stage business, and he hated all that 
 sort of gush ! 
 
 Poor Mrs. Trevelyan! Yet, she had her 
 good points as well as her bad. Should he 
 judge her too harshly? If you only knew 
 would n't you find some reason for her being 
 the way she was? He had really liked her — 
 until last evening. She should n't have tried 
 that — no, she should n't have tried that I It 
 was better to leave things as they were. 
 
 The cab rumbled on down the avenue, 
 through unending side streets, across car tracks 
 and cobble stones, until it stopped in front of 
 the big pier with its flashing rows of myriad 
 electric lights. 
 
 " Wait a minute," said Micky as he climbed 
 out. " I '11 be back in a minute and give you 
 the money." 
 
 298 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 "No, you don't 1" remarked the cabby. 
 " Me an' you will go along together." 
 
 " Oh, very well," answered his fare. " Come 
 on. Perhaps sometime you '11 want to take a 
 state-room on the boat." 
 
 They climbed the stairs to the upper story, 
 passed the watchman who looked suspiciously 
 at the shabby fellow carrying his whip in his 
 hand, and thence ascended the gang-plank to 
 the Pavonia. 
 
 " This way, my friend," said Micky, leading 
 him to the purser's office. 
 
 The rat-faced purser was hard at work at 
 his accounts and did not look up at his visitor's 
 approach. 
 
 " Hello there, old chap ! " called Micky 
 through the grating. " Come over here a 
 minute like a good fellow; I want to speak to 
 you." 
 
 " Wait a minute, Micky," answered the other 
 meditatively still counting, — " and nine is 
 sixty-seven." He wrote it down, stuck the pen- 
 cil behind his ear and stepped to the window. 
 " What do you want — money? " 
 
 " Yes," said Micky. " Among other things." 
 299 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 " What are the others ? " laughed the purser. 
 " Perhaps they 're easier to get." 
 
 " Well," replied Micky in his most casual 
 manner, " I want to engage Saloon A i — and 
 the rooms that go with it for the return voyage. 
 You call it the ' bridal suite ' don't you? " 
 
 The purser looked at him reprovingly. 
 
 "What kind of a joke Is that?" he asked. 
 " Are you tight ? " 
 
 " Have n't had a drink since we left Naples," 
 answered Micky. " This is on the level." 
 
 The purser eyed him suspiciously. 
 
 " Who for? " he inquired. 
 
 " Myself," said Micky with dignity. 
 
 "You make me sick!" snapped the purser. 
 " Confound you ! What business have you to 
 try and be funny at my expense." 
 
 " I 'm not kidding," answered Micky. " I 
 want to engage it — honor bright." 
 
 " Go soak your head ! " rapped out the other. 
 
 " Are you going to take my order or not? " 
 inquired Micky loftily. 
 
 The purser shoved a yellow blank towards 
 him under the grating. 
 
 "All right, smarty," he retorted; "sign an 
 application if you want it." 
 300 
 
"C. Q."; OR, IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 
 
 Micky took up the pen and iesitated a mo- 
 ment as if trying to recollect something he had 
 almost forgotten. Then he filled out the slip 
 carefully, taking a long time about it, and slid 
 it back to the purser. At the bottom, after 
 the words " Signature of applicant," appeared 
 in Micky's labored scrawl the name : 
 
 Michael Fitzpatrick St. Giles Stanley Hamil- 
 ton, Earl of Roakby, Viscount Chiselhurst, 
 Baron Montagu. 
 
 " You see," he explained semi-apologetically, 
 " that Roakby chap who was shot in England 
 the other day happened to be my uncle. — Now 
 Shylock, old chap," he added patiently, " just 
 give me a month's wages to pay my cabby, will 
 you?" 
 
 THE END 
 
 301 
 
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 Jl« 
 
 ^1 , ' Ih"«- *■