he turned away from her that first day out of Rangoon, hurt
and broken? Paul Ellison; and she had told him that she was going home
to marry his brother!

XVII

THE ANSWERING CABLE

Next morning, when it became known among the bankers and foreign
agencies that a letter of credit for ten thousand pounds had been lost
or stolen, there was more than a ripple of excitement. They searched
records, but no loss as heavy as this came to light. Add to the
flutter a reward of two hundred pounds for the recovery of the letter,
and one may readily imagine the scrutinizing alertness of the various
clerks and the subsequent embarrassments of peaceful tourists who
wished to draw small sums for current expenses. Even the managing
director of the Bank of Burma came in for his share of annoyance. He
was obliged to send out a dozen cables of notification of the loss, all
of which had to be paid out of accrued dividends. Thus Warrington had
blocked up the avenues. The marvelous rapidity with which such affairs
may be spread broadcast these days is the first wonder in a new epoch
of wonders. From Irkoutsh to Aukland, from St. Johns to Los Angeles,
wherever a newspaper was published, the news flew. Within twenty-four
hours it would be as difficult to draw against that letter as it would
be to transmute baser metals into gold.

At half past ten Warrington, apparently none the worse for a sleepless
night, entered the private office of the consul-general who, gravely
and with studied politeness, handed to him an unopened cablegram.

"I rather preferred to let you open it, Mr. Warrington," he said.

"Still, it might be something of your own," replied Warrington. He
noted the lack of cordiality, but with passive regret.

"No cablegram would come to me from the department, especially as the
diplomatic-pouch, as we call the mail-bag, arrives Monday. Open it. I
wish you good luck," a little more kindly.

"May I sit down?"

"To be sure you may."

The consul-general recovered his pen and pretended to become absorbed
in the litter of papers on his desk. But in truth he could see nothing
save the young man's face: calm, unmoved, expressing negligent interest
in what should be the most vital thing in his existence, next to life.
If the man hadn't met Elsa, to her interest and to his own alarm, he
would have been as affable as deep in his heart he wanted to be. A
minute passed. It seemed to take a very long time. He tried