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Page 77
"I think," said Falconer coldly, "that we had better telegraph the
Evershams to see if they have had any word from her before we stir
up any hue and cry."
"All right," said Billy, and then he gave a short laugh. "Lord, we
shall be quarreling like a couple of backyard dames next ... Of
course, we're chagrined. It's poor satisfaction to reflect that we
did our best--and if you are still uncertain about Miss Beecher's
danger there I can't blame you for seeing the folly of the
business."
After this effort of pleasantness Billy subsided into the cab that
was most welcomely discovered, rousing after some minutes of violent
progress to change their direction to the English doctor's.
"Winged," he said briefly, to Falconer's question. "Watchman chap as
I was getting over the wall. Nothing wrong, I know, but it feels
like--fire," he substituted.
Falconer was instantly concerned, but his sympathy went against the
grain. Billy was too stirred for consolation. At the doctor's he
refused to have Falconer enter with him.
"No use in having both of us traced if there is to be any trouble
about this," he said with decision. "Go ahead and telegraph the
Evershams and get an answer as soon as possible."
He had no earthly belief in that answer, and great, therefore, was
his astonishment when, as he was walking the floor with his tingling
arm in the early morning hours, a telegram was sent to him which
Falconer had just received. His wire had caught the boat at Rhoda
where it tied up for the night and Mrs. Eversham had promptly
answered.
"We have heard from Miss Beecher," she said, "and she may join us
later. Her address just Cook's, Alexandria."
CHAPTER XV
ON THE TRAIL
Breakfasting, a little one-handedly, that Monday morning, Billy was
approached by his companion of the night. The young Englishman
looked fresh and fit and subtly triumphant.
"Good news--what?" he said with a genial smile.
"If authentic," said the dogged Billy.
"Of all the fanatic f----!" The sandy-haired young man checked his
explosiveness in mid-air. He gave a glance at the bulge of bandage
beneath Billy's coat sleeve and dropped into a chair beside him.
"How's the arm?" he inquired in a tone of restraint.
"Fine," said Billy without enthusiasm.
"Glad of that. Afraid the canal bath wouldn't do it any good.
Beastly old place, that." Then the Englishman gave a sudden chuckle.
"It's a regular old lark when you come to think of it!"
"Our lack of luck wasn't any great lark." Savagely Bill speared his
bacon.
"Luck? Why we--Oh, come now, my dear fellow, you can't pretend to
maintain those suspicions now! Of course the letter is authentic!"
Falconer spoke between irritation and raillery. "That Turkish
fellow could hardly fake that letter to them, could he? No, and we
will have to acknowledge ourselves actuated by a too-hasty
suspicion--inevitable under the circumstance--and be grateful that
the uncertainty is over. That's the only way to look at it."
"We don't know that the Evershams have received a 'letter.' It might
be another fraudulent telegram that was sent them from Alexandria."
"That is a bit too thick. You're a Holmes for suspicion!" Falconer
laughed. "I believe if Miss Beecher herself walked into this dining
room you would question if she were not a deceiving effigy!"
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