is it?" she asked. "I saw Mr. Pixley pass, and his face
frightened me. Oh, what is wrong?"

Pixley glanced at her out of his woeful eyes, and at Margaret, who had
just come running down the stairs. He seemed to hesitate for a moment.
Then he groaned--

"You will have to know," and motioned them all into the dining-room
and shut the door.

"This "--jerking out the telegram--"was waiting for me," and he handed
it to Graeme, who smoothed it out and read, while Pixley dropped into
a chair.

"Pixley. Bel-Air. Sark.

"Zizel, Amadou, Zebu, Zeta. Eno."

"Code," said Pixley briefly. "Meanings underneath," and dropped his
head into his hands.

"Zizel," read Graeme slowly--"There is bad news. Amadou--your father.
Zebu--has bolted. Zeta--we fear the smash will be a bad one. Eno--?"

"My partner's initials--they certify the wire," said Pixley hoarsely.

And they looked soberly at one another and very pitifully at the
broken man before them.

"Don't take it too hard, Pixley," said Graeme quietly, laying a
friendly hand on the other's shoulder. "It may not be as bad as this
puts it. Codes are brutally bald things, you know"

The bowed head shook pitifully. He raised his white face and looked
round at them with a shocked shrinking in his eyes.

"God forgive him!" he jerked. "And God forgive me, for I have doubted
him at times! He was so--so--so demned good"--and Graeme's lips
twitched in spite of himself, so closely was the expression in accord
with his own feelings. But Pixley did not see the twitch, for he was
looking at Margaret and Hennie Penny, and he was saying with
vehemence--

"Will you believe me that I knew absolutely nothing of this? He never
discussed his affairs with me nor I mine with him, and we had no
business together except on purely business lines. If he had to buy or
sell he sent it my way, of course,--nothing more. You will believe me,
Graeme--"

"Every word, my boy--"

"We all believe it, Mr. Pixley," said Hennie Penny warmly.

"And I know it, Charles," said Margaret.

"It is very good of you all," he groaned. "I must get back at once,
Graeme. How soon is there a boat?"

"Five o'clock. You'll have to stop a night in Guernsey, which is a
nuisance."

Charles Svendt shook his head in dumb misery. It was crushing to be so
far away--thirty hours at least, and he gnashing within to be on the
spot and at work, learning the worst, seeing what could be done.

Then, with a preliminary knock on th