"Why won't you dance, Ricky?" she asked; "it is your last evening, if you are determined to leave to-morrow." He turned to her with an abrupt gesture; she thought he was going to speak, but he did not, and after a moment she said: "Do you know what that despatch from the New York Herald to my brother means?"
"Yes," he said. His voice was dull, almost indifferent.
"Will you tell me?"
"Yes, to-morrow."
"Is—is it anything dangerous that they want him to do?"
"Yes."
"Ricky—tell me, then! You frighten me."
"To-morrow—perhaps to-night."
"Perhaps to-night?"
"If I receive another telegram. I expect to."