“Do you? About what?”
“I have a message for you.”
“You have a message for me, Mr. Jason? Forgive me, but from whom?”
I leaned over toward him, and whispered, “The Princess Ferdinand of Glottenberg.”
The man turned as white as a sheet, and, gripping my hand, said under his breath:
“Hush! Surely you—you haven’t—she hasn’t sent it?”
“Yes, she has,” said I.
“Good God! After seven years!”
General Closmadene rose from his chair. Daynesborough drank off a very large “white-wash,” and added: