The door opened, and, to his surprise, a young English officer entered
the apartment.

"Is this Mr. Fernando Stevens?" he asked politely.

"It is."

"I am the bearer of a message from Lieutenant Matson."

"Pray who is Lieutenant Matson?"

"Of his majesty's ship the _Xenophon_."

Fernando thought he must be mistaken, as he had not the least
recollection of ever hearing of Lieutenant Matson; but the ensign
assured him that he was the person with whom the lieutenant had to deal,
and then asked if he could refer him to some friend with whom the
business might be arranged. Then the youthful American remembered
Terrence Malone's strange instructions and sent the ensign at once to
the young Irishman.

Just how Terrence would settle the matter, he did not know; but he who
had such remarkable ability for getting one into a scrape could surely
devise some means to get him out, and Fernando was perfectly willing to
trust him. So, deeming the matter wholly settled, he sat down to his
books once more, and had actually forgotten the officer, when Terrence
bolted into the room his face expressive of anxiety.

"It's all arranged, me boy. Ye did right in lavin' it to me. The young