“Then plague has actually been found?”

“Determined by bacteriological test this morning.”

“How do you know?”

“I was present at the finding.”

“Who did it?  Dr. Pruyn?”

The other nodded.

Sherwen whistled.

“Better make ready to move, Mr. Brewster,” he advised.  “You can’t get out of port after quarantine is on.  At least, you couldn’t get into any other port, even if you sailed, because your sailing-master wouldn’t have clearance papers.”

The magnate smiled.

“I hardly think that any United States Consul, with a due regard for his future, would refuse papers to the yacht Polly,” he observed.

“Don’t be a fool!”

Thatcher Brewster all but jumped from his chair.  That this adjuration should have come from the freakish spectacle-wearer seemed impossible.  Yet Sherwen, the only other person in the room, was certainly not guilty.

“Did you address me, young man?”

“I did.”

“Do you know, sir, that since boyhood no person has dared or would dare to call me a fool?”

“Well, I don’t want to set a fashion,” said the other equably.  “I’m only advising you not to be.”

“Keep your advice until it’s wanted.”

“If it were a question of you alone, I would.  But there are others to be considered.  Now, listen, Mr. Brewster:  Wisner and Stark wouldn’t let you through that quarantine, after it’s declared, if you were the Secretary himself.  A point is being stretched in giving you this chance.  If you’ll agree to ship a doctor,—­Stark will find you one,—­stay out for six full days before touching anywhere, and, if plague develops, make at once for any detention station specified by the doctor, you can go.  Those are Stark’s conditions.”

“Damnable nonsense!” declared Mr. Brewster, jumping to his feet, quite red in the face.

“Let me warn you, Mr. Brewster,” put in Sherwen, with quiet force, “that you are taking a most unwise course.  I am advised that Mr. Perkins is acting under instructions from our consulate.”

“You say that Dr. Pruyn is here.  I want to see him before—­”

“How can you see him?  Nobody knows where he is keeping himself.  I haven’t seen him yet myself.  Now, Mr. Brewster, just sit down and talk this over reasonably with Mr. Perkins.”

“Oh, no,” said the third conferee positively; “I’ve no time for argument.  At six o’clock I ’ll be back here.  Unless you decide by then, I’ll telephone the consulate that the whole thing is off.”

“Of all the impudent, conceited, self-important young whippersnappers!” fumed Mr. Brewster.  But he found that he had no audience, as Sherwen had followed the scientist out of the room.