The letter was from Clemence; it was the first sign of her existence which he had received since their parting on that June evening nearly three months ago.
He was looking only older, harder, and more recklessly resolute when about a quarter of an hour later he entered the office of the Welcome Diamond Mining Company. The feeble-looking little messenger was in solitary possession, and he looked up rather uneasily as Julian wished him a brief good morning and crossed to the door of the manager’s room.
“Mr. Ramsay’s just gone out, Mr. Romayne,” he said. “I was to say he would be in again directly.”
Julian made a curt gesture of assent and went on into the private room. There was plenty of work waiting for him, it appeared, and he was still applying himself to it with dogged concentration, when, nearly an hour later, the door opened and Ramsay appeared.
“There you are!” he said indifferently. “I thought you weren’t going to turn up this morning.”
Julian had just glanced up from the letter he was writing to acknowledge the other man’s entrance, and he went on writing as he explained briefly that his train had been delayed.
“No particular reason for wanting me, I suppose?” he said in a brief, businesslike way, as he laid down his pen.
Ramsay sat down deliberately, and put his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat.
“Well, yes,” he said. “There’s a matter here which rather calls for the attention of the managing director.”
He held out a letter as he spoke, and Julian took it and read it quickly. Then he laid it down on the table before him, and looked up slowly at Ramsay. His face was rather pale.