Arthur was quite startled by an announcement that accorded so little with his expectations.
"Good news—for me?" said he, in a faint, incredulous tone.
"Ay, glorious news! Haven't you been anxious about the Shannon? I have; more anxious than I would own."
Arthur started up. "The Shannon! God bless you, father."
"She lies at anchor in the Mersey," roared the old man, with all a father's pride at bringing such good news. "Why, the Rollestons will be in London at 2:15. See, here is his telegram."
At this moment in ran Penfold, to tell them that the Shannon was up at Lloyd's, had anchored off Liverpool last night.
There was hearty shaking of hands, and Arthur Wardlaw was the happiest man in London—for a little while.
"Got the telegram at Elmtrees, this morning, and came up by the first express," said Wardlaw senior.
The telegram was from Sir Edward Rolleston. "Reached Liverpool last night; will be at Euston, two-fifteen."
"Not a word from her!"