"Just a question first," interrupted the admiral. "Did you put to sea from a neutral port, the United States, Argentine, or Chile?"
"We sailed from Hamburg," I responded. "We flew the Norwegian flag and were searched for an hour and a half by a British cruiser."
"Examined by the British?"
"Yes."
Those grave Japanese faces lighted up with smiles of exquisite amusement.
After I had written my short piece, the admiral spoke again.
"And now, Count, tell me where you have been."
"Admiral," I responded, "that is a question I should prefer not to answer right away. First tell me where you looked for me."
He brought out a big chart. A quick glance, and I saw the island of Mopelia. Around it was a faint line in pencil. That told me what I wanted to know. Undoubtedly, they had found the diary my boy had lost, the last entry of which mentioned Mopelia.
The admiral pointed to the Tasman Sea, between Australia and New Zealand.