“We are delighted to see you, Lieutenant Godfrey,” he said. “Have some breakfast.”
“You are very good, sir,” the officer answered. “Business first. I’ll breakfast afterwards, with pleasure, if I may. The Admiral’s compliments, and he would take it as a favour if you would haul down your wireless for a few days.”
“Haul down my wireless,” Mr. Fentolin repeated slowly.
“We are doing a lot of manoeuvring within range of you, and likely to do a bit more,” the young man explained. “You are catching up our messages all the time. Of course, we know they’re quite safe with you, but things get about. As yours is only a private installation, we’d like you, if you don’t mind, sir, to shut up shop for a few days.”
Mr. Fentolin seemed puzzled.
“But, my dear sir,” he protested, “we are not at war, are we?”
“Not yet,” the young officer replied, “but God knows when we shall be! We are under sealed orders, anyway, and we don’t want any risk of our plans leaking out. That’s why we want your wireless disconnected.”
“You need say no more,” Mr. Fentolin assured him. “The matter is already arranged. Esther, let me present Lieutenant Godfrey—my niece, Miss Fentolin; Mr. Gerald Fentolin, my nephew; Mr. Hamel, a guest. See that Lieutenant Godfrey has some breakfast, Gerald. I will go myself and see my Marconi operator.”
“Awfully good of you, sir,” the young man declared, “and I am sure we are very sorry to trouble you. In a week or two’s time you can go into business again as much as you like. It’s only while we are fiddling around here that the Admiral’s jumpy about things. May my man have a cup of coffee, sir? I’d like to be on the way back in a quarter of an hour.”
Mr. Fentolin halted his chair by the side of the bell, and rang it.