“I don’t understand it at all, sir,” said Masters. “Haven’t you a cousin—Dr. Forsyth who went to Canada some years ago?”
“Yes, yes! Malcolm Forsyth! Of course, of course. Well, I can’t see him. I won’t see him. I don’t want to see anyone. But why did he wire you, Masters? He didn’t even know your name.”
“I can’t understand it at all, Sir John,” then his face brightened, “unless the clerk who redirected it put my name on by mistake.”
“Ah, perhaps that was it. Oh well, never mind,” said Sir John testily. “You must write and say I can’t see him. Here’s a letter for you, too,” he went on.
“I expect it’s from the Stores,” said Masters. “I have been expecting their list of concentrated foods with the highest caloric value. We want them in our flights.”
He opened the letter casually. “My God!” he cried and it dropped from his nerveless fingers.
“For Heaven’s sake control yourself,” said Sir John sharply. Now his airship was complete, his nerves were all on edge waiting for the trial. “What is it? What is it?”
“I’m sorry,” said Masters penitently, “but I’ve had a shock. I’ve heard from some one I thought was dead years ago.”
Sir John showed little interest. “Well let us now get on with lunch,” was all he said.
“I don’t think I’ll have any if you don’t mind,” said Masters. “I must go into Arroch Head at once and send a telegram. I may have the car I suppose?”