Still Major White was only in his normal condition of mild and patient surprise. He had only met Mrs. Vansittart once, and Dorothy as often. He did exactly as he was told without asking one of those hundred questions which would inevitably have been asked by many men and more women under such circumstances, and followed the ladies out of the crowd.
“We must talk here,” said Mrs. Vansittart. “One cannot do so in a carriage in the streets of The Hague.”
Major White bowed gravely, and looked from one to the other. He was rather travel-worn, and seemed to be feeling the heat.
“Tony Cornish has probably written to you about his discoveries as to the malgamite works. We have no time to go into that question, however,” said Mrs. Vansittart, who was already beginning to be impatient with this placid man. “He has earned the enmity of Otto von Holzen—a man who will stop at nothing—and the malgamiters are being raised against him by Von Holzen. Our information is very vague, but we are almost certain that an attempt is to be made on Tony's life to-night between half-past nine and ten. You understand?” Mrs. Vansittart almost stamped her foot.
“Oh yes,” answered White, looking at the station clock. “Twenty minutes' time.”
“We have the information from one of the malgamiters themselves, who knows the time and the place, but he is tipsy. He is in a carriage outside the station.”
“How tipsy?” asked Major White; and both his hearers shrugged their shoulders.
“How can we tell you that?” snapped Mrs. Vansittart; and Major White dropped his glass from his eye.
“Where is your brother?” he said, turning to Dorothy. He was evidently rather afraid of Mrs. Vansittart, as a quick-spoken person not likely to have patience with a slow man.
“He has gone to Utrecht,” answered Dorothy. “And Mr. von Holzen is not at the works, which are locked up. I have just come from there. By a lucky chance I met this man Ben, and have brought him here.”