Elaine, Aunt Josephine and I were in the garden when Lieut. 
Woodward’s orderly rode up and delivered the letter.

Elaine opened it and read.  “That’s all right,” she thanked the orderly.  “Oh, Walter, he’s coming to the garden party, and is going to bring a friend of his, a Professor Arnold.”

We chatted a few moments about the party.

“Oh,” exclaimed Elaine suddenly, “I have an idea.”

“What is it?” we asked, smiling at her enthusiasm.

“We’ll have a fortune teller,” she cried.  “Aunt Josephine, you shall play the part.”

“All right, if you really want me,” consented Aunt Josephine smiling indulgently as we urged her.

. . . . . . .

Down in the submarine harbor that afternoon, Del Mar and his men were seated about the conference table.

“I’ve traced out the course and the landing points of the great Atlantic cable,” he said.  “We must cut it.”

Del Mar turned to one of the men.  “Take these plans to the captain of the steamer and tell him to get ready,” he went on.  “Find out and send me word when the cutting can be done best.”

The man saluted and went out.

Leaving the submarine harbor in the usual manner, he made his way to a dock on the shore around the promontory and near the village.  Tied to it was a small tramp steamer.  The man walked down the dock and climbed aboard the boat.  There several rough looking sailors were lolling and standing about.  The emissary selected the captain, a more than ordinarily tough looking individual.

“Mr. Del Mar sends you the location of the Atlantic cable and the place where he thinks it best to pick it up and cut it,” he said.

The captain nodded.  “I understand,” he replied.  “I’ll send him word later when it can be done best.”

A few minutes after dispatching his messenger, Del Mar left the submarine harbor himself and entered his bungalow by way of the secret entrance.  There he went immediately to his desk and picked up the mail that had accumulated in his absence.  One letter he read: 

Dear Mr. Del Mar,

We shall be pleased to see you at a little garden party we are holding to-night.

Sincerely,

Elaine Dodge.

As he finished reading, he pushed the letter carelessly aside as though he had no time for such frivolity.  Then an idea seemed to occur to him.  He picked it up again and read it over.

“I’ll go,” he said to himself, simply.

. . . . . . .

That night Dodge Hall was a blaze of lights and life, overflowing to the wide verandas and the garden.  Guests in evening clothes were arriving from all parts of the summer colony and were being received by Elaine.  Already some of them were dancing on the veranda.

Among the late arrivals were Woodward and his friend, Professor Arnold.