any one could be revived who had been exposed much longer than that; so the Richardson's given up the search, and some of the other ships that were searching have given up too, and gone on their course."
"When did you hear that, Henry? I was just speaking with the office."
"A few minutes ago; a news wire got it before any one else; it didn't come through the office."
"I see; how many were in the boat?"
"Twelve, Connie."
"Then all the vessels up there won't give up yet!"
"Why not?"
"I was just talking with Miss Bennet, Henry; she's heard again from the other end of the lake. The people up there say the Drum is beating, but it's beating short still!"
"Short!"
She saw Henry stiffen. "Yes," she said swiftly. "They say the Drum began sounding last night, and that at first it sounded for only two lives; it's kept on beating, but still is beating only for four. There were thirty-nine on the ferry—seven passengers and thirty-two crew. Twelve have been saved now; so until the Drum raises the beats to twenty-seven there is still a chance that some one will be saved."
Henry made no answer; his hands fumbled purposelessly with the lapels of his coat, and his bloodshot eyes wandered uncertainly. Constance watched him with wonder at the effect of what she had told. When she had asked him once about the Drum, he had professed the same scepticism which she had; but he had not held it; at least he was not holding it now. The news of the Drum had shaken him from his triumph
