"Mr. Brigham?" asked Glennie.
"What's left of him, my dear sir," was the answer. "I've melted considerably during this spell of hot weather. You'd naturally think the trade winds, which blow continually in this section, would temper the air. But trade winds, my dear sir, are not what they're cracked up to be."
Glennie introduced himself, and then presented Matt. Mr. Brigham smiled expansively, and drew a bandanna handkerchief over his perspiring brow.
"I've been expecting the pair of you," he announced, shaking each by the hand.
"Expecting us?" queried Glennie, astonished.
"Sure. Read that."
The consul tucked a cablegram into Glennie's fingers. It had come from Belize, and was signed by the captain of the Seminole. Glennie read it aloud:
"Motor Matt and Ensign John Henry Glennie, U. S. N., will reach Para in submarine Grampus. Glennie carries dispatches for you. Read them, and see that both Matt and Glennie understand them thoroughly."
"Nice, long message, eh?" queried Brigham, slapping Glennie on the back. "Plenty of useless words, but what does the captain of the Seminole care? Uncle Sam stands the cable toll, and, besides, on grave matters it is well to be explicit. Hang a few extra dollars, anyway. Where's the dispatches?"
Glennie imagined how he would have felt if he had been obliged to report, in view of that cablegram, that his dispatches had been lost and not recovered.