mber
or shipping, he would drop his fun and his fish all right."

"Well, I wonder," said Horne Fisher, looking sleepily at the island
in the river.

"By the way, is there any news of anything?" asked Harker of Harold
March. "I see you've got an evening paper; one of those enterprising
evening papers that come out in the morning."

"The beginning of Lord Merivale's Birmingham speech," replied March,
handing him the paper. "It's only a paragraph, but it seems to me
rather good."

Harker took the paper, flapped and refolded it, and looked at the
"Stop Press" news. It was, as March had said, only a paragraph. But
it was a paragraph that had a peculiar effect on Sir John Harker.
His lowering brows lifted with a flicker and his eyes blinked, and
for a moment his leathery jaw was loosened. He looked in some odd
fashion like a very old man. Then, hardening his voice and handing
the paper to Fisher without a tremor, he simply said:

"Well, here's a chance for the bet. You've got your big news to
disturb the old man's fishing."

Horne Fisher was looking at the paper, and over his more languid and
less expressive features a change also seemed to pass. Even that
little paragraph had two or three large headlines, and his eye
encountered, "Sensational Warning to Sweden," and, "We Shall
Protest."

"What the devil--" he said, and his words softened first to a
whisper and then a whistle.

"We must tell old Hook at once, or he'll never forgive us," said
Harker. "He'll probably want to see Number One instantly, though it
may be too late now. I'm going across to him at once. I bet I'll
make him forget his fish, anyhow." And, turning his back, he made
his way hurriedly along the riverside to the causeway of flat
stones.

March was staring at Fisher, in amazement at the effect his pink
paper had produced.

"What does it all mean?" he cried. "I always supposed we should
protest in defense of the Danish ports, for their sakes and our own.
What is all this botheration about Sir Isaac and the rest of you? Do
you think it bad news?"

"Bad news!" repeated Fisher, with a sort of soft emphasis beyond
expression.

"Is it as bad as all that?" asked his friend, at last.

"As bad as all that?" repeated Fisher. "Why of course it's as good
as it can be. It's great news. It's glorious news! That's where the
devil of it comes in, to knock us all silly. It's admirable. It's
inestimable. It is also quite incredible."

He gazed again at