"I can see none. Now, the door! Keep inside!"
With quaking heart he listened to Mason's heavy tread along the passage and across the kitchen. He clinched the back of a chair in the effort to calm himself by forcible means. Then he heard the unbolting of the door and the telegraph messenger's prompt announcement:
"Philip Anson, Esquire."
Mason came to him carrying the telegram.
Grenier subsided into the chair he held. This time he was prostrated. He could scarce open the flimsy envelope.
"Abingdon counsels caution. Says there is some mistake. Much love.
"Evelyn."
That was all, but it was a good deal. Grenier looked up with lack-luster eyes. He was almost fainting.
"Send him away," he murmured. "There is nothing to be done. In the morning——"
Mason saw that his ally was nearly exhausted by the reaction. He grinned and cursed.
"Of all the chicken-hearted——"