"There has been an action, but not in Scaife's part of Africa. Beauregard's Horse were engaged and suffered severely. And would any one say 'Demon' in such a serious context?"
"Oh, my God!" said John, pale and trembling. At last he understood. Add two letters to "Demon" and you have "Desmond." How easily such a mistake could be made!—"Desmond," ill-written, handed to an old Manorite to copy and despatch.
"It's Scaife—it's Scaife," John cried.
Warde said nothing, staring at the thin slip of paper as if he were trying to wrest from it its secret.
"Everybody called him 'Demon,'" said John.
"Still, one ought to be prepared."
For many hideous minutes they sat there, silent, waiting for the second telegram. Dumbleton brought it in, and lingered, anxiously expectant; but Warde dismissed him with a gesture. As the door closed, Warde stood up.
"If our fears are well founded," he said solemnly, "may God give you strength, John Verney, to bear the blow."
Then he tore open the envelope and read the truth—
"Henry Desmond killed in action."