"Sorry to trouble you, sir. I'm getting anxious about the Golden Hind. She ought to be here ninety minutes ago. I asked the towns on her route, and she's not been seen either from Douglas, from Holyhead, or from Pembroke. Manchester reported a first-class etheric liner passing at 10 p.m. on the way to London. I asked the London office, and find she was lying directly over Whitehall at 11 o'clock, then headed for the west. I fear that Ulster's up to some new treachery. More news, sir—first-class etheric liner sighted from Salisbury heading for Lyonesse."
Wrenching the aerograph from her brother's hand, Mistress Sarah gave the signal "continue."
"Glad you read me, sir, my broken arm makes it hard to signal."
Mistress Sarah, little used to the instrument, spelled out an order slowly.
"Call up the Golden Hind."
There was a long pause before the aerograph stirred again.
"No reply, sir. Exeter reports the Golden Hind. She will be here in half an hour."
A servant announced Dr. Boyes.
"Doctor, come here,"—the woman spoke in low, even tones. "My brother is in danger—wake him for me."
The physician, a strong, swart man of fifty, without one word of answer, drew a chair to the master's side, and fell to instant study of the case.