Brachey with bounding pulse looked at the envelope. But the address, “Mister J. Brachey, Esquire,” was not in Betty's brisk little hand.
He tore it open, and read as follows:
“My Dear Sir—Taking Time touch and go by the forelock it becomes privileged duty to advise you to wit:
“So-called Lookers and Western soldiers of that ilk have attacked mission college Hung Chan with crop up outcome that these unpleasant fellow's go the limit in violence. By telegraph officer of devotion to His Excellency this morning very early passes the tip that that mission college stands longer not a whit upon earth.
“Looker soldiers acting under thumb of man mentioned during our little chin-chin of yesterday forenoon plan within twenty-four hours advance on T'ain-an-fu cutting off city from Eastern access and then resting on oars, jolly well taking their time to destroy mission here and secondary Christians, making clean job of it.
“Officer of devotion reports further of old reprobate plan that larger army has become nearly ready to march full tilt and devil take the hindmost on Ping Yang engineer compound fort and lay axe to root of it. Railroad and bridges and all works of white hands will go way of wrack and ruin except telegraph, that being offspring of Imperial Government.
“And now, my dear sir, as Ping Yang is place of some strength and come on if you dare, I would respectfully recommend that you engage at once in forlorn hope and make journey post haste to Ping Yang, as we sit on kegs of gun powder with ground slipping out from under us as hour-glass runs.
“Regretting in great heaviness and sadness of heart that civilization sees no longer light of day in Hansi Province, I beg to remain, my Dear Sir,
“Yours most respectfully,
“Po Sui-an.