Durham raised his hand as he shook his head again.
"I only want you to send away a telegram at once to your head office," he said in a voice so dull and hollow that it caused even a greater shock to his companions than his appearance had done.
"There would not be anyone to receive it at this time of night," Wallace replied. "But it shall go the first thing in the morning."
"If you will write it now, I will leave it at the post office," Durham said in the same lifeless tone.
Wallace rose, forcing a smile.
"It is already written, Durham," he said pleasantly. "It states you have succeeded in recovering the stolen gold, and asks for authority to pay you the reward at once and in public."
"You must not send that."
The forced smile faded as Wallace stood staring; the expression both in Durham's voice and on his face was so hopelessly despondent, that into Wallace's mind there came a fear lest the recovered gold had again disappeared.
"Not send that?" he asked wonderingly. "Why? You said——"
"I know. But you must not send it—now. Write another."