drink
together now and a pipe afterwards."

He walked across to the sideboard, where the glasses and decanters were
arranged. Then for the first time he saw upon the tray awaiting him a
telegram. He gave a little exclamation as he tore it open.

Andrew looked up.

"What is it, George?" he asked. "A telegram?"

Duncombe stood with his eyes glued upon the oblong strip of paper. A
curious pallor had crept into his face from underneath the healthy tan
of his complexion. Andrew, sightless though he was, seemed to feel the
presence in the room of some exciting influence. He rose to his feet and
moved softly across to the sideboard.

"Is it a telegram, George?" he whispered hoarsely. "Read it to me. Is it
from Spencer?"

Duncombe collected himself with an effort.

"It's nothing," he answered with a little laugh, in which all the
elements of mirth were lacking, "nothing at all! A note from Heggs, my
head-keeper--about some poachers. Confound the fellow!"

Andrew's hand was suddenly upon the sideboard, travelling furtively
across its shining surface. Duncombe watched it with a curious sense of
fascination. He felt altogether powerless to interfere. He was simply
wondering how long it would be before those long, powerful fingers
seized upon what they sought. He might even then have swept aside the
envelope, but he felt no inclination to do so. The fingers were moving
slowly but surely. Finally, with a little grab, they seized upon it.
Then there was another moment of suspense.

Slowly the hand was withdrawn. Without a second's warning Duncombe felt
himself held in the grip of a giant. Andrew had him by the throat.

"You have lied to me, George!" he cried. "There was a telegram!"

CHAPTER XVIII

"WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?"

It seemed to Duncombe that time stood still. Andrew's face, wholly
disfigured by the hideous dark spectacles, unrecognizable, threatening,
was within a few inches of his own. He felt the other's hot breath upon
his cheek. For a moment there stole through his numbed senses the fear
of more terrible things. And then the grip which held him relaxed.
Andrew stood away gasping. The crisis was over.

"You lied to me, George. Why?"

Duncombe did not answer. He could not. It was as though his body had
been emptied of all breath.

"You meant to keep the contents of that telegram a secret from me. Why?
Was I right after all? Read me that telegram, George. Read it me
truthfully."

"The telegram