But there was more to come before the afternoon closed. First of all came another wire from Parslewe. It was short and peremptory, like the first, but it was more illuminating, and, in some queer way, it cheered us up.
Bring the box with you.
Madrasia clapped her hands.
"That's better!" she exclaimed. "That's lots better! It means that he's clearing things up, or he's going to. For heaven's sake, don't let's forget the copper box! Which of us is most to be depended upon for remembering?"
"I, of course," said I, "being a man."
"We'll debate that on some other occasion," she retorted. "As a woman—Lord! what's that?"
Old Tibbie was just entering with the tea-tray; as she opened the door, a loud, insistent knocking came on the iron-studded panels at the foot of the stair. Tibbie groaned and almost dropped her tray, and Madrasia turned appealingly to me.
"We're all getting nervous," she said. "Will you run down?"
