"I'd like to bet," he cried, his eyes alight with a smiling excitement. Then he shook his head. "No. I wouldn't bet on it. It's too sacred. Nancy—my Nancy—."
He broke off, and glanced down at the paper. In a moment the smile fell from his eyes. When he looked up it was to flash a keen glance at the rugged face beyond the desk.
"Here, listen," he cried, with a sharp intake of breath.
"Watch Lizzie for U.G.P. Signed—Nisson."
Bat nodded.
"U.G.P. That's Union Great Peninsular Railroad. That's Hellbeam's. It means—."
"It means Hellbeam's men are aboard. The packet Lizzie is due at our quay in less than an hour."
Standing tore the message into small fragments and dropped them into the wastepaper basket beside him. Only was his emotion displayed in the deliberate care with which he reduced the paper to the smallest possible fragments.