“Read it, I tell you, or say your prayers.”
The muzzle was within a foot of his head. He unfolded the telegram. Then he looked at Sapt. “Read,” said the constable.
“I don’t understand what it means,” grumbled Rischenheim.
“Possibly I may be able to help you.”
“It’s nothing but—”
“Read, my lord, read!”
Then he read, and this was the telegram: “Holf, 19 Konigstrasse.”
“A thousand thanks, my lord. And—the place it’s despatched from?”
“Strelsau.”
“Just turn it so that I can see. Oh, I don’t doubt you, but seeing is believing. Ah, thanks. It’s as you say. You’re puzzled what it means, Count?”