“Yes,” Salvières said again, “but don’t speak now; wait till you feel better.” And he handed him the tumbler the captain of the life-station had just brought.
“I can answer your questions now, sir.”
“Better not till a bit later. Ah, here’s the doctor”; and, pulling off his coat, Salvières prepared to assist him.
An hour after, as Salvières and his cousin were stepping upon the Castle esplanade, a footman—fighting the wind, his powdered head bent to the blast and much the worse for wear—met them at a run, clutching a telegram tightly in his fist.
“What now!” grumbled Salvières, taking refuge in a mullioned doorway and tearing the envelope open with his damp fingers.
Am coming to you at once. Received infamous news in Shanghai from my agent. Send wireless as soon as feasible P.O.S.S. Mondoria, giving latest facts and destination of Wild Rose in cipher. Make all possible inquiries meanwhile.
Basil.
Salvières stared for a full minute at the paper trembling in his hand, and then passed it silently to Régis.
His sou’wester pushed back, his blond mustache falling on both sides of his mouth à la Vercingetorix, the Marquis de Plenhöel said nothing at all, very emphatically.
“Right you are!” assented Salvières, just as if he had spoken. “Come, we have work to do.” As, indeed, they had, and, following the line of least resistance, they finally found themselves engulfed by a side entrance.
In the central hall they were met by Tatiana and Marguerite. Both were very pale and very collected, and their voices were perfectly calm. Piotr, they explained, was asleep, with Garrassime on watch. “The—Laurence”—here Tatiana faltered a little—“has been placed in a chapelle-ardente. She—she is very beautiful; the sea has been merciful.” And now her heroes—she dwelt tenderly upon that word—must change into dry clothes and eat something warm and comforting. She glanced anxiously at her husband, then at Régis, and felt, with her marvelous instinct, that there was some new and startling development; but this wise woman asked no questions, and was satisfied to busy herself with what she specified as “first aid to the deserving.” They needed it by this time, of that there could be no doubt, and it was only when completely revived and limbered up by hot bath and cold shower, and steaming coffee with a gracious accompaniment of more substantial viands, followed by a refreshing smoke, that they felt quite equal to assembling the necessarily narrow conseil-de-famille that should decide upon immediate steps. Naturally Marguerite was excluded, for the questions under discussion were not of the sort one can bring to maidenly ears, but the Abbé de Kerdren was called in, and those four—Tatiana, Jean, Régis, and the sailor-priest—sat down before a glorious driftwood-fire in the library to attain some conclusion.