“Has he?” roared Aldrich.  He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.  “This,” he cried, shaking it at me, “is a copy of a wireless that I’ve just sent to the chief of police at New Bedford.”

With great satisfaction he read it in a loud and threatening voice:  “Two impostors on this boat representing themselves to be Lord Ivy, my future brother-in-law, and his secretary.  Lord Ivy himself on board.  Send police to meet boat.  We will make charges.—­Henry Philip Aldrich.”

It occurred to me that after receiving two such sensational telegrams, and getting out of bed to meet the boat at six in the morning, the chief of police would be in a state of mind to arrest almost anybody, and that his choice would certainly fall on Kinney and myself.  It was ridiculous, but it also was likely to prove extremely humiliating.  So I said, speaking to Lord Ivy:  “There’s been a mistake all around; send for Mr. Kinney and I will explain it to you.”  Lord Ivy, who was looking extremely bored, smiled and nodded, but young Aldrich laughed ironically.

“Mr. Kinney is in his state-room,” he said, “with a steward guarding the door and window.  You can explain to-morrow to the police.”

I rounded indignantly upon the purser.

“Are you keeping Mr. Kinney a prisoner in his state-room?” I demanded.  “If you are—­”

“He doesn’t have to stay there,” protested the purser sulkily.  “When he found the stewards were following him he went to his cabin.”

“I will see him at once,” I said.  “And if I catch any of your stewards following me, I’ll drop them overboard.”

No one tried to stop me—­indeed, knowing I could not escape, they seemed pleased at my departure, and I went to my cabin.

Kinney, seated on the edge of the berth, greeted me with a hollow groan.  His expression was one of utter misery.  As though begging me not to be angry, he threw out his arms appealingly.

“How the devil!” he began, “was I to know that a little red-headed shrimp like that was the Earl of Ivy?  And that that tall blonde girl,” he added indignantly, “that I thought was an accomplice, is Lady Moya, his sister?”

“What happened?” I asked.

Kinney was wearing his hat.  He took it off and hurled it to the floor.

“It was that damned hat!” he cried.  “It’s a Harvard ribbon, all right, but only men on the crew can wear it!  How was I to know that? I saw Aldrich looking at it in a puzzled way, and when he said, ’I see you are on the crew,’ I guessed what it meant, and said I was on last year’s crew.  Unfortunately he was on last year’s crew!  That’s what made him suspect me, and after dinner he put me through a third degree.  I must have given the wrong answers, for suddenly he jumped up and called me a swindler and an impostor.  I got back by telling him he was a crook and that I was a detective, and that I had sent a wireless to have him arrested at New Bedford.  He challenged me to prove I was a detective, and, of course, I couldn’t, and he called up two stewards and told them to watch me while he went after the purser.  I didn’t fancy being watched, so I came here.”