Suddenly Edmund’s face “sprang to attention” as it were. He took a pencil from his pocket, and seizing a menu card, began making rapid marks on it, as the tune on the anvil rang on.
The bishop and I watched him in amazement.
“It’s Welfare,” he said; “our private call in Morse. Here’s his message coming. Excuse me.”
For some minutes the noise went on, the bishop and I, elbows on table, watching Edmund as he jotted down dots and dashes on the cardboard. He put out his hand for a fresh card, and I had had the sense to have one ready for him, so there was no interruption in his recording of the message.
Presently the hammering ceased.
We listened for a moment, but no more sound came from the anvil. Edmund set himself to deciphering and transcribing the message.
Finally he read aloud: “Police traced Jakoub to vicarage. Doors watched. Will arrest at once. Send him down passage. I will meet him at end.”
“We must act at once,” the bishop observed, rising from his chair; “perhaps you had better get him away,” he added to Edmund. Edmund nodded and moved towards the door.
“One moment,” I said, “I must get Mrs. Rattray and the maid out of the kitchen. We shall have to take Bates into our confidence.”
I left the room, and finding Mrs. Rattray sent her and her assistant to carry out some extraordinary rearrangement of the bishop’s room. I told her that his Lordship had been unwell, and these arrangements were the doctor’s orders. This silenced her protests of amazement, and having got rid of the women I spoke hurriedly to Bates in the hall.