Mr. Hammond gave a sigh of relief, and went at once into the directors’ room where their Excellencies, the Japanese Ministers of State and War, awaited him. There were the last compliments to be paid, the last papers to be signed, the last farewells to be spoken, and at twenty minutes of eight the Moonbeam took flight.
As on her arrival, she circled the city of Tokio, returned to salute the port of Kasumigaura, and sailed out over the Pacific Ocean on the last leg of her journey around the world.
At nine o’clock Mr. Hammond, watching the endless expanse of glistening water from the windows of the control room, suddenly remembered something.
“Why, I haven’t had my breakfast,” he said to David. “Clean forgot it!”
“You had better have some coffee, hadn’t you, sir? I could do with a cup myself.”
Giving the wheel to Van Arden, the two started for the salon. At the door Mr. Hammond stopped.
“What the—what’s this?” he demanded, looking suspiciously at Dulcie. In the middle of the room stood a large chest made of exquisite wood-inlay, delicately colored. It was evidently an antique, rare as well as beautiful. “Dulcie, I told you we didn’t want to take any more weight on board.”
“That’s not more weight. That’s Mr. Hamilton,” Dulcie explained sweetly.
“Mr. Hamilton! Now what do you mean, Dulcie?”
“Well, daddy, Prince Hata made me a present of that chest, and I really didn’t forget what you said about weight. But I found I could lift one end of the chest quite easily, and you know I couldn’t lift an end of Mr. Hamilton. So I thought to myself, ‘There! Mr. Hamilton has left the ship, and my chest can go in his place.’ I think it was rather clever of me, don’t you?”