"Yes, sir. Captain Rathbun. Shall I get him for you?"
"Please!"
Fifteen minutes later, Curtis was in the small office where the British naval man made his headquarters, on the main street of the town.
Rathbun listened with close attention to Curtis' story, throwing in a question now and then.
"Yes," he said, "there is a ship called the Carethusia carrying supplies to Britain. But it'd take a little time to locate her. I'd have to wire Halifax!"
He sent off a code telegram and waited. An hour elapsed—two hours—then came the reply. Rathbun decoded it and read it to Curtis.
"Carethusia, carrying valuable cargo to Britain, left St. Johns, Newfoundland, in convoy midnight Friday. American destroyers will join, according to instructions."
"That," Curtis said, "solves part of my problem. The Comerford's after the Carethusia. There must be something of particular value aboard that the Comerford wants!"
"Yes," Captain Rathbun agreed. "There must be!"