Then a door opened; a middle-aged man came nervously in with a bundle of papers, laid them down on the table without a word, and turned to go out. Oliver lifted his hand for attention, snapped a lever, and spoke.
“Well, Mr. Phillips?” he said.
“There is news from the East, sir,” said the secretary.
Oliver shot a glance sideways, and laid his hand on the bundle.
“Any complete message?” he asked.
“No, sir; it is interrupted again. Mr. Felsenburgh’s name is mentioned.”
Oliver did not seem to hear; he lifted the flimsy printed sheets with a sudden movement, and began turning them.
“The fourth from the top, Mr. Brand,” said the secretary.
Oliver jerked his head impatiently, and the other went out as if at a signal.
The fourth sheet from the top, printed in red on green, seemed to absorb Oliver’s attention altogether, for he read it through two or three times, leaning back motionless in his chair. Then he sighed, and stared again through the window.