I--am sorry we missed Mr.Oscard." She turned and went back to Lady Cantourne, who was sitting in the carriage.

And while she was dancing the second extra with the first comer at four o'clock the next morning, Guy Oscard was racing out of Plymouth Sound into the teeth of a fine, driving rain.

On the bridge of the trembling tug-boat, by Oscard's side, stood a keen-eyed Channel pilot, who knew the tracks of the steamers up and down Channel as a gamekeeper knows the hare-tracks across a stubble-field.

Moreover, the tug-boat caught the big steamer pounding down into the grey of the Atlantic Ocean, and in due time Guy Oscard landed on the beach at Loango.
He had the telegram still in his pocket, and he went, not to Maurice Gordon's office, but to the bungalow.
Jocelyn greeted him with a little inarticulate cry of joy.
"I did not think that you could possibly be here so soon," she said.
"What news have you ?" he asked, without pausing to explain.

He was one of those men who are silenced by an unlimited capacity for prompt action.
"That," she replied, handing him the note written by Jack Meredith to Marie at Msala.
Guy Oscard read it carefully.
"Dated seven weeks last Monday--nearly two months ago," he muttered, half to himself.
He raised his head and looked out of the window.