“Hn-n?” said the Chief. “You know, those passengers on that liner will think there’s been cloud all over the ocean all this time. Not so bad though, as when a ship gets in slow-moving storm-center, and keeps in it maybe half way across the ocean. Well, have you figured out anything more?”

The J. M. felt a new uplift at being asked a question as though he were an equal.

“No,” he said, regretfully but honestly. “We’ve got a whole line of ships reporting between here and Honolulu, but they don’t show enough wind- or temperature-shift anywhere to indicate a front. Whatever it is, it’s only in the upper air.”

“When would you say it’ll get here, whatever it is?”

“Two or three tomorrow morning,” said the J.M, but he did not say that he had used his slide-rule.

“Hn-n? worst time possible. In the afternoon it’ll still be too far away for any good forecast, and it’ll be on top of us before the morning forecast goes out. Maybe it’s nothing, of course; and then again it may be a matter of a million dollars’ damage and twenty lives. A plane with a good observer could fly out there in a few hours and find out what it’s all about. Yet—” His voice was suddenly bitter. “If I asked the Navy for a plane, all the gold-braiders would laugh their heads off. But we have to take the responsibility of a forecast.”

He bent over the map again, and studied it for any clue which might have so far escaped discovery.

•

The J. M. heard the door open and glanced around. He started with surprise. The Old Master was standing there, dripping wet. He looked pitifully small, draggled, and cold. His white hair straggled damply from beneath the sodden black felt hat. The light overcoat with the velvet collar clung to him, soaked. He was shivering.

The Chief looked up. “Lord!” he said sharply. And then both of them sprang to their feet. But the Old Master carefully shut the door behind him, and spoke in his outdated, formal way.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I thought that I should like to look at the map. My barometer has risen this morning, and I judged that the storm is over. I did not think it worthwhile to carry an umbrella when I started out, and I am afraid I have been somewhat dampened by an unexpected shower.”

The other two glanced at each other, and the Chief shook his head quickly.

“Here,” he said. “Let me take your wet coat off. Sit by the radiator awhile, and dry your feet.”

“Oh, no. I thank you, no. I shall just take a look at the map, and be on my way.” He took his hat off out of politeness, but he only pulled his coat tighter about him as they started to take it. He walked toward the map, but a shiver took him, and he tottered.