Gheena said icily that they could do something, drive a car, replace other men; then she stopped abruptly, seeing Darby's drawn face.
"The Professor," said Darby, "is making studies of rocks as usual. What amusement he can find hammering out little pieces of stones I cannot say."
"And he do be lookin' at thim half the night through," put in Phil. "Ye can see his shaddy if he pulls down the blind—he forgets most times—pokin' an' peepin', with big books in front of himself."
The Professor saw the group and waved a telegram.
"Your man was very busy, Stafford; he had forgotten some supplies, so I offered to bring this." He held it out, beaming softly.
Basil opened it, reading with slow ease. Then he looked round at the distant wireless station and grunted sharply.
"Of course," he said to himself. "It does make it..."
Gheena had snatched the wire, reading out a meaningless jumble of letters and short words.
"And the news?" she asked softly.
"Oh, the war news. Everything much as usual. Great hopes and little else," he answered coolly. "When they strew the papers with roses they seem to forget the thorns or the stems, Miss Freyne."