aide--"we thought you'd like
to know. Of course, to us," he added hastily, "it's quite
superfluous--quite superfluous, but--"

The aide coughed apologetically. "You might read, sir," he suggested.

"What? Exactly! Quite so!" cried the admiral.

In the fading light he held close to his eyes a piece of paper.

"San Francisco, April 20," he read. "Rueff, first sergeant, shot
himself here to-day, leaving written confession theft of regimental
funds for which Swanson, captain, lately court-martialled. Money found
intact in Rueff's mattress. Innocence of Swanson never questioned, but
dissatisfied with findings of court-martial has left army. Brother
officers making every effort to find him and persuade return."

The admiral sighed happily. "And my wife," he added, with an
impressiveness that was intended to show he had at last arrived at the
important part of his message, "says you are to stay to dinner."

Abruptly, rudely, Swanson swung upon his heel and turned his face from
the admiral. His head was thrown back, his arms held rigid at his
sides. In slow, deep breaths, like one who had been dragged from
drowning, he drank in the salt, chill air. After one glance the four
men also turned, and in the falling darkness stood staring at nothing,
and no one spoke.

The aide was the first to break the silence. In a polite tone, as
though he were continuing a conversation which had not been
interrupted, he addressed the admiral. "Of course, Rueff's written
confession was not needed," he said.

"His shooting himself proved that he was guilty."

Swanson started as though across his naked shoulders the aide had drawn
a whip.

In penitence and gratitude he raised his eyes to the stars. High above
his head the strands of the wireless, swinging from the towering masts
like the strings of a giant Aeolian harp, were swept by the wind from
the ocean. To Swanson the sighing and whispering wires sang in praise
and thanksgiving.

THE GOD OF COINCIDENCE

The God of Coincidence is fortunate in possessing innumerable press
agents. They have made the length of his arm a proverb. How at
exactly the right moment he extends it across continents and drags two
and two together, thus causing four to result where but for him sixes
and sevens would have obtained, they have made known to the readers of
all of our best magazines. For instance, Holworthy is leaving for the
Congo to find a cure for the sleeping sickne