Guy read it through and then looked up with a sort of incredulous bewilderment.
"When did this come?" he asked.
Tony shrugged his shoulders. "My dear Guy—I don't know any more about it than you do. I suppose someone must have put it in the letter-box while we were having our pleasant little chat with Congosta."
"But—but—" He stared at it again in frowning uncertainty—"Good Heavens, Tony!" he exclaimed, "do you mean to say that Da Freitas took the trouble and the risk of sending you this while he was actually—?" He broke off as if unable to complete the sentence.
"Looks like it, doesn't it?" said Tony cheerfully. "My respect for the Marquis increases every hour—in fact I'm beginning to feel quite fond of him."
Guy's lips tightened into an expression of restrained exasperation.
"Look here, Tony," he began with forced calmness. "For goodness' sake let's get this thing quite clear. Did you really mean what you said to Congosta?"
Tony took back Da Freitas' note, and put it carefully in his pocket.
"I meant most of it," he replied. "I am going down to Southampton to-night, and I shall start for Livadia the moment the Betty is ready to sail."
Guy knew him well enough to understand that for once he was speaking in absolute sincerity.