“Well, I see you have made it, Tom?”
“Made what, Dr. Burr?”
“A brave record. I compliment you on it, my boy. You deserve all they say about you.”
“I don’t understand what you are talking about, doctor.”
“That will tell you, then,” and with a friendly smile the Rockley Cove physician pressed upon Tom a newspaper he had been carrying when he met his young friend.
Tom was in a great hurry. He told the doctor so and hastened homewards. It was the morning after the rescue of those aboard the Olivia. Tom had remained on duty at Station Z all night, and Bill Barber had insisted on keeping him company.
There had been little of real business to attend to, but Tom had concluded it was the right time to look out for disasters, as witness the lucky reception of the wireless from the ill-fated Olivia.
Bill had relieved Tom in watching and sleeping, and Tom had dozed enough to keep him from feeling done out, despite the rigorous experience of the early evening hours.
Just an hour previous Ben Dixon had put in a dejected and disconsolate appearance at the tower. The minute Tom caught sight of his face he knew that his chum had failed in his search for the missing Harry Ashley.
“No use, Tom,” was Ben’s blunt report. “Your father and I reached Wadhams and visited the circus, but we were too late.”