Not one of these guesses, however wild or probable, came within striking distance of the extraordinary truth of the “gold ship’s” flight across the war-swept seas. The day after their arrival, and while the town was still seething with excitement over the great liner’s presence in the harbor, Jack received a telegram at the hotel where he, Raynor and de Garros had taken up temporary quarters. The message was from Mr. Jukes and read as follows:
“Learned by the papers of your safe return. Kindly call at my office as soon as possible after your arrival in New York. Important.”
“What’s in the wind now?” exclaimed Jack to Bill Raynor, who was with him when he got the message.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Raynor; “but I have a sort of notion in the back of my head that your vacation is over.”
“If you can call it a vacation,” laughed Jack.
“Well then, perhaps experience would be a better word,” substituted Bill, also laughing.
That evening, arrangements having been made about the shipment of their baggage to New York, the boys and the young French aviator obtained their tickets from an agent of the steamship company, for the line was bearing all expenses, and took a night train for home.
Almost as soon as they reached the city, Jack visited Mr. Jukes’ office.
“Thank goodness you’ve come, Ready!” he exclaimed as soon as he had shaken hands with the lad, upon whom, since their adventures in the South Seas, he strangely came to rely; “the St. Mark sails to-morrow for Europe. I don’t know yet, in the middle of this European muddle, just what ports she will touch at. That must be settled by her captain later on.”
“But Mullen is on the St. Mark,” began Jack. “I wouldn’t wish to usurp his job and——”