“The wire’s from Sir Ormsby Galloway, Pearson,” he said. “It’s about Mr. Strangeways. He’s done what I used to be always watching out against: he’s disappeared.”
“Disappeared, sir!” cried Pearson, and almost dropped the Gladstone bag. “I beg pardon, sir. I know there’s no time to lose.” He steadied the bag and went on with his task without even turning round.
His master was in some difficulty. He began to write, and after dashing off a few words, suddenly stopped, and then tore them up.
“No,” he muttered, “that won’t do. There’s no time to explain.” Then he began again, but tore up his next lines also. “That says too much and not enough. It’d scare the life out of her.”
He wrote again, and ended by folding the sheet and putting it into an envelop.
“This is a message for Miss Alicia,” he said to Pearson. “Give it to her in the morning. I don’t want her to worry, because I had to go in a hurry. Tell her everything’s going to be all right; but you needn’t mention that anything’s happened to Mr. Strangeways.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Pearson.
Mr. Temple Barholm was already moving about the room, doing odd things for himself rapidly, and he went on speaking.
“I want you and Rose to know,” he said, “that whatever happens, you are both fixed all right—both of you. I’ve seen to that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pearson faltered, made uneasy by something new in his tone. “You said whatever happened, sir—”