“It's Elmer Boatwright.”
“Oh!” was Brachey's reply to this. He quietly lighted the candle that stood on a small table by the head of his cut. Then he added the single word, “Well?”
“I have come on a peculiar errand, Mr. Brachey...” Boatwright was fumbling for words.
“Yes?”
“There is little time for talk. A queer situation... let me say this—when you came to the mission and asked us to leave T'ainan with you it was under the supposition that Griggsby Doane was dead.”
“Yes.... You mean that now... that the news was inaccurate?”
Boatwright inclined his head.
“He is alive, then?”
Another bow.
“Where is he?”