He wrote me the most lucid dispatch that ever I read."
"You can go, Mr. Ganns?"
"I must go, boy. Albert wants me."
"Could you get off in a week?"
"A week! To-night."
"To-night, sir! Do you reckon that Mr. Redmayne is in any danger?"
"Don't you?'"
"He's forewarned and you see he's taking great precautions."
"Brendon," said Mr. Ganns, "run round and find when the night boat
sails from Dover, or Folkestone. We'll reach Paris to-morrow
morning, I guess, catch the _Rapide_ for Milan, and be at the Lakes
next day. You'll find we can do so. Then telegraph to this dame that
we start _a week hence_. You take me?"
"You want to get there before we're expected?"
"Exactly."
"Then you do think Mr. Albert Redmayne is in danger?"
"I don't think about it. I know he is. But as this mystery has only
just let loose on him and he's got his weather eye lifting, it will
be all right, I hope, for a few hours. Meantime we arrive."
He took another pinch of snuff and picked up the _Times_.
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