“But he was to cable.”
“Oh! And what was the name of the steamer?”
“L’Hirondelle de Mer, swallow of the sea. I fancy it must mean flying fish. Paul says it is a small merchantman, carrying a few passengers.”
“L’Hirondelle de Mer?” Edwin’s voice sounded so faint that Molly stopped packing books and looked up, startled.
“What is it?”
“It may be a mistake,” he faltered.
Molly jumped up from the box of books and read over her husband’s shoulder the terrible headlines announcing the sinking of the small merchantman L’Hirondelle de Mer by a German submarine. No warning was given and it was not known how many of the crew or passengers had escaped. The news was got from a boat-load of half-drowned seamen picked up by an English fishing smack. The cargo was composed of pork and beef.
Molly read as long as her filling eyes would permit, and then she sank on her knees by her husband’s chair and gave way to the grief that overcame her.
“Oh, Molly darling! It may be all right. Kent is not the kind to get lost if there is any way out of it.”
“But he would be saving others and forget himself.”