Mr. Carville, pinching his shaven chin with a thumb and fore-finger, looked down meditatively at his boots. In some subtle way his manner belied his words. I felt a lively conviction that there was in a particular way something more to it. It seemed quite incredible that he had no more to tell us of his brother.
"Surely," I said, "you have heard of your brother since?"
He gave me a quick look.
"That's right," he said. "I have. I was going to tell you about it. I saw him, fifteen days ago, in the North Sea."
"Great Scott, did you really?" exclaimed Mac, and he picked up the copy of The Morning. "Look here!"
Mr. Carville took the paper and read the news without exhibiting any emotion. I saw his eyelid flicker as he glanced down the special article by "Vol-Plane." Lord Cholme's concern for the Empire seemed to leave him cold.
"Humph!" he remarked and handed the paper to Mac, remaining lost in thought for a moment.
"Ah!" he said at length. "That certainly accounts for him. But it doesn't say anything about the three green lights."
"What green lights?" I asked, little thinking that I should see these same lights myself in the near future.
"I'll tell you," said he, and looked round for a place to knock out his pipe. I passed him the ash-bowl that Mac brought back from Mexico when he went down there to do a bird's-eye view for a mining company. Mr. Carville held it up to examine the crude red and blue daub on the pale glaze.