“Impossible to leave till to-morrow.—M.”
He gave it to Rodwell, who at once saw that the woman he expected had been delayed. Probably she had not yet been able to gather that important information which was wanted so urgently in Berlin.
The telegram puzzled him. Was it possible that the arrangements which he had made with such cunning and forethought, and had left to Molly to carry out, had broken down after all?
Lewin Rodwell bit his lip, and wondered. He seemed that day beset by misfortune, for when at five o’clock, Ted having returned, he tested the cable as usual, a call came through from Berlin.
Rodwell answered it, whereupon “Number 70” flashed the following message beneath the sea.
“Your information of this morning regarding troop-ships leaving Plymouth for Dardanelles is incorrect. Desborough was torpedoed off Canary Islands on January 18th, and Ellenborough is in dry dock in Belfast. Source of your report evidently unreliable.”
Rodwell read the words upon the long green tape as it slowly unwound, and sat staring at them like a man in a dream.