"Yes."
He hesitated for a moment as if trying to summon courage to tell her something, and then, in a voice that was quite unlike his own, he said—
"Permit me to take these letters away for a few minutes."
And rising unsteadily, he left the room.
CHAPTER IX
When the Consul-General returned to the library he looked like a feeble old man of ninety. It was just as if twenty years of his life had been struck out of him in half-an-hour. The Sirdar stepped up to him in alarm, saying—
"What has happened?"
"Read these," he answered, handing to the Sirdar the letters he carried in his hand.
The Sirdar took the letters aside, and standing by the chimney-piece he looked at them. While he did so, his face, which had hitherto been grave and pale, became bright and ruddy, and he uttered little sharp cries of joy.
"I knew it!" he said. "Although I was at a loss to read the riddle of Gordon's presence at Ghezirah I knew there must be some explanation. If he had acted with a sense of conscience in the one case, he must have done so in the other.... Thank God! Splendid! Bravo! ... Of course you will stop the Commandant?"