“Yes—good news, Miss Atherton has the telegram. Her father took part in a very brilliant engagement a day or two ago, which appears to have cleared the way to Kandahar. He was scratched, but not seriously.”
Jeffreys received this good news with great satisfaction. It was a relief to him to hear it in the first instance not from Raby’s lips, for he never knew what to do or say on such occasions.
“Miss Atherton must be very proud,” said he, returning to his work.
He was not, however, destined to remain long undisturbed. Raby, radiant and excited, entered the library a few minutes later.
“Mr Jeffreys,” said she, “such splendid news. Has uncle told you? I thought you would like to read the telegram; here it is.”
Jeffreys looked his congratulations as he took the paper.
“Read it aloud, Mr Jeffreys,” said the happy girl, “I should like to hear how it sounds.” Jeffreys smiled and began to read; Raby, who knew it all by heart, seeming to check off every word.
Suddenly, however, in the middle of the narrative the reader started and changed colour, and became unaccountably breathless.
“The guns meanwhile, escorted by—” he had got so far.
“‘Captain Forrester of the—Hussars.’ Go on,” said Raby.