They sat for an hour or more, chatting, and McTee drew a picture of the pair waiting below in silent dread—a picture so vivid that Henshaw laughed in his breathless way. In time, however, he decided that they had delayed long enough, and took up pen and paper to write the order which was to convince the dauntless Campbell that even he was a slave. As he did so, Sloan, the wireless operator, appeared at the door, saying: "The report has come, sir."
CHAPTER 23
He held a little folded paper in his hand. At sight of it Henshaw turned in his chair and faced Sloan with a wistful glance.
"Good?"
"Not very, sir."
Henshaw rose slowly and frowned like the king on the messenger who bears tidings of the lost battie.
"Then very bad?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Very well. Let me have the message. You may go."
He took the slip of paper cautiously, as if it were dangerous in itself, and then called back the operator as the latter reached the door.