Margaret went to a quiet, but expensive hotel, which Elliott selected for her, while he lodged himself with Bennett at the same house where the party had made rendezvous with Sullivan four months ago. The place looked the same as ever, and it was hard to realize that he had circled the globe since that time, and it was not pleasant to remember that he did not seem to be appreciably nearer the lost treasure. However, they had a definite clue at last,—or, rather, Margaret had one. It was now only a question of time, and of obtaining this clue from its possessor, who must go no further eastward.
At the offices of the American Line, Elliott found a cablegram from Henninger awaiting him. It read:
“Wire directions. Dangerous to wait.”
Elliott showed this message to Margaret. “This settles it, you see,” he said. “Henninger probably has his expedition all ready to sail, and we’ll all have to stay here till the work is done.”
“Are you going to stay, too?” she interrogated.
“Well,” Elliott hesitated, having no such intention. “I guess Bennett and I will go on, though I don’t expect we can get there in time to join the boys before they sail. But you’ll stay here, of course. Would you rather stay in New York, or go into the country?”
“I’m going to South Africa,” remarked Margaret, looking out the window.
“You’ve gone just as far as you are going.”
“I haven’t. You need me. Now, don’t rehearse all your arguments to me; I’ve heard them all, and they’re all sound. But I know the one you are thinking of, but daren’t mention—that it would be unladylike and not respectable for me to go.”
Elliott laughed. “I must confess that that argument hadn’t entered my mind.”