Blix and Condy heard the sound of torn paper as the red-headed man opened the telegram.
Ten seconds passed, then fifteen, then twenty.

There was a silence.
Condy dared to steal a glance at the red-headed man's reflection in the mirror.

He was studying the despatch, frowning horribly.

He put it away in his pocket, took it out again with a fierce movement of impatience, and consulted it a second time.

His "supper Mexican" remained untasted before him; Condy and Blix heard him breathing loud through his nose.