he admirable pole which he had not released in his somersaults,
gave forth a hoot of victory. It was the Day of Tommy. But for that
morsel of a wise Owl the spy would have escaped. I embraced Tommy, who
wriggled with discomfort; the Sub-Lieutenant shook his hand, which he
appreciated the more. 'Good work,' said the officer. 'Thank you, sir,'
said Tommy. That was all; no emotion, no compliments, no embraces.
'Good work.' 'Thank you, sir.' _Ma foi_, what a people are the
English!

"We locked up the spy. The Sub-Lieutenant told me that wireless orders
had gone out to the patrols spread far over the seas. The boat, of
which we had the name and description, would arrive at Holland, but
upon its return on the morrow it would be seized and escorted to
Harwich. If by mischance it eluded the patrols, it would be captured
when it arrived in the river Crouch. All was provided for. The false
news has gone to Holland, and Froissart has done good work. I ask for
no reward; I will be like the English--cold, implacable. When the
officer said at parting to me, 'Good work, M. Froissart, we are much
obliged to you,' I replied calmly, 'Thank you, sir,' I had, you will
observe, modelled myself upon the little Owl.

"And you, Mr. Dawson," concluded Froissart, wiping his face, for the
effort of talking so much English had brought out the sweat upon him,
"have you also succeeded?"

"Yes," said Dawson curtly, "I have also done my work, but it was not
exciting. My man was no spy, and the real news about the _Intrepid_
and _Terrific_ will not get through to Germany."

"Saved," roared Froissart, springing to his feet. "We are colleagues
most perfect. We have done work of the most good. _Embracons nous, mon
ami_." Then occurred that deplorable incident which has already been
related. Froissart in his enthusiasm embraced the unresponsive Dawson,
and was laid out by a short-arm jab upon the diaphragm. It was really
too bad of Dawson; but then, as I have said, his temper was atrocious.

* * * * *

The two battle-cruisers remained upon the shoals of Picklecombe Point
all through November and well into the following month. The great
salvage steamer with the arc light went away, but others remained.
Work seemed to proceed, though it was unaccountably slow in producing
a result. The Three Towns lost interest in the derelicts until one
evening there fell upon them a blow which set them gasping for
coherent speech. The