"Giveen safe."
Mr. French, having read it, put on his dressing-gown, and, crossing over to the door of Miss Grimshaw's room, knocked and pushed the envelope under the door.
"Read that," shouted Mr. French.
"Good!" came the girl's voice when she had read it. "I knew he'd do something. Oh, what a relief!"
At breakfast, with the open telegram on the table, they discussed it.
"It was handed in at Regent Street last night at eight o'clock," said Miss Grimshaw. "What, I wonder, can he have done to him, or how can he have got round him?"
"I don't know what he's done to him," said her companion, "but I know one thing, he'll never get round him, and if he thinks he's talked him over he'll find he's made a mistake."
"Well," said the girl, "whatever has happened has happened. We have done our best, and if we are beaten, it won't be our faults. And there is some satisfaction in that."
The day passed, bringing no news from Mr. Dashwood. The next day also passed without news; but by the early post of the third day arrived a letter.