"She's too far out," he replied gloomily. "There's nothing to be hired
that could catch her."

Crawshay's hand had suddenly stolen to his chin. There was a queer
light in his eyes. He clutched at his companion's arm.

"You're wrong, Hobson," he exclaimed. "There is! Come right along with
me. We can talk as we go."

"Are you crazy?" the American demanded.

"Not quite," the other answered. "Hurry up, man."

"Where to?" "To New Jersey. I've got Government orders, endorsed by
your own Secretary of War. It's a hundred to one they won't listen to
me, but we've got to try it."

He was already dragging his companion down the wooden way. His whole
expression had changed. His face was alight with the joy of an idea.
Already Hobson, upon whom the germ of that idea had dawned, began to
be infected with his enthusiasm.

"It's a gorgeous stunt," he acknowledged, as he followed his companion
into a taxicab. "If we bring it off, it's going to knock the
movies silly."

Katharine, weary at last of waving her hand to the indistinct blur of
faces upon the dock, picked up the great clusters of roses which late
arrivals had thrust into her arms at the last moment, and descended to
her stateroom upon the saloon deck. She spent only a few minutes