In the office of the consulate was a gentleman in shirt sleeves and white duck trousers. His feet were elevated on the top of a table, and he was trying to keep himself cool with an immense palm-leaf fan.
The sight of a United States naval uniform brought the consul to his feet immediately.
“Mr. Brigham?” asked Glennie.
“What’s left of him, my dear sir,” was the answer. “I’ve melted considerably during this spell of hot weather. You’d naturally think the trade winds, which blow continually in this section, would temper the air. But trade winds, my dear sir, are not what they’re cracked up to be.”
Glennie introduced himself, and then presented Bob. Mr. Brigham smiled expansively, and drew a bandanna handkerchief over his perspiring brow.
“I’ve been expecting the pair of you,” he announced, shaking each by the hand.
“Expecting us?” queried Glennie, astonished.
“Sure. Read that.”
The consul tucked a cablegram into Glennie’s fingers. It had come from Belize, and was signed by the captain of the Seminole. Glennie read it aloud:
“Bob Steele and Ensign John Henry Glennie, U. S. N., will reach Para in submarine Grampus. Glennie carries dispatches for you. Read them, and see that both Steele and Glennie understand them thoroughly.”