"What? What? Say that again. When? Six o'clock last night? You don't mean it was official.... God bless my soul! No, not a word. Our papers haven't come." Then a pause. "How long did you say they'd give? Not this Saturday? Why, that's to-morrow!" A pause of thirty seconds followed, Sir William hanging on to the receiver, listening.
"I'll think it over," he said excitedly. "I'll call you up later. Good-by." When he had hung up the receiver, he still stood there, rooted, looking through the wall at some astonishing happening far off.
"William," Lady McIntyre started up, "it's not about the boys!"
"Boys? No. God bless my soul! nothing whatever to do with the boys."
"Oh, only some government matter." With a clearing brow she settled again in her corner.
Sir William turned about, and went with quick, fussy, little steps into the library.
Napier followed his chief a moment after, only to be told to go and send a couple of messages. "Hall telephone." Sir William spoke shortly. He sat, elbows on table, head in hands, staring straight before him at some staggering vision.
As Napier stood waiting to get his call through, Miss Greta came over to the writing-table and took the address-book out of the stand. Madge hitched herself up on the end of the table nearest the telephone and sat swinging her long legs.
"What's up?" she demanded, with her laughing impudence.
"Is anything up?" Napier asked.