CHAPTER XXXI
At the very hour when Elaine received the strange letter signed "Bernard Treves," a letter which awoke all her defensive feminine instincts, John occupied a chair in the little mess-room at Heatherpoint Fort. The occasion was one of deep and portentous significance. At the head of the table, where Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had so recently taken tea with Lieutenant Parkson, General Whiston was seated in state. His big, commanding figure bulked largely in the chair usually occupied by Colonel Hobin. Beneath the General's eyes was a map of the South Coast defences—an elaborate, minutely particularised map, which in a layman's eyes would have been almost undecipherable.
The General held a blue pencil over a particular section of the Solent; his eyes, however, were fixed upon the countenance of a naval captain who sat at his left hand, a little farther down the table. Opposite the naval captain was Colonel Hobin, and next to Hobin sat old Commander Greaves.
John occupied an insignificant position next to Greaves, and near the end of the table there was a vacant chair.
"Is there no possibility, Captain," inquired General Whiston, speaking to the naval officer, "of altering the mine-field in the time at our command?"
Before the naval officer lay a small Admiralty chart of the Solent clustered with a multitude of red crosses.
"Well," he said, deliberating upon the situation, "this is a pretty elaborate field, and it would take us quite two days to make an effective new arrangement. Of course, we could mine the free channels, but that prevents us coming in."
He went into technical details.
General Whiston cast a glance at John.
"You are quite sure your friends Voules and Company intend to strike on the twenty-eighth?"