"Any news, Blankovitch?"
The words tumbled eagerly from Rock's thick lips as he caught sight of the ruddy countenance of the manager.
Blankovitch shook his head.
"Only the broken message a little before midnight," he answered. "You got that. Gonzolez landed. That's all we know."
Rock fidgeted while his eyes roved about the room. "You don't suppose anything went wrong?" he hazarded after a moment.
Blankovitch did not think so. The wireless had failed for some reason or other. But it had done that before. He was expecting Rossi in at any moment. There was no occasion for worry. Would Mr. Rock care for a drink so early in the morning? The bank president gulped down the brandy, and under the stim
ulus of the fiery liquor his wavering courage rallied perceptibly.
"Had a bad night," he explained. "Didn't sleep a wink. Neuralgia."
The Slavonian nodded sympathetically and the two men lapsed into silence. After some time had passed a fisherman entered.
"Rossi's coming in," he announced.