He was about to speak, Van Heldre having sprung to his feet, when the young man’s eyes alighted on Leslie and Madelaine seated side by side at the table, and the flash of anger which mounted to his brain drove everything else away.
“What is it?” cried Van Heldre hoarsely. “Do you hear?—speak!”
“There is a brig on the Conger Rock,” said Harry quickly, as if roused to a recollection of that which he had come to say.
“Yes, sir,” cried another voice, as old Crampton suddenly appeared. “And the man has just run up to the office with the news, for—”
“Well, man, speak out,” said Van Heldre, whose florid face was mottled with patches of ghastly white.
“They think it’s ours.”
“I felt it coming,” groaned Van Heldre, as he rushed into the hall, Leslie following quickly.
As he hurriedly threw on his waterproof a hand caught his, and turning, it was to see Madelaine looking up imploringly in his eyes.
“My father, Mr Leslie. Keep him out of danger, pray!”
“Trust me. I’ll do my best,” said the young man quickly; and then he awoke to the fact that Harry Vine was beside him, white with anger, an anger which seemed to make him dumb.