And the devil's own time I've had getting
through. Why didn't you answer more promptly? What's the matter? Has
anything gone wrong?"
"All is well, Excellency, as well as you could wish, knowing what you
know."
Profound relief found voice in a sigh from Victor's heart.
"You got my messages, then? Nogam delivered them?"
"So I understand. I myself did not see him, Excellency. The man Sturm--"
On that name the voice died away in what Victor fancied was a gasp that
might have been of either fright or pain.
"Hello!" he prompted. "Are you there, Shaik Tsin? I say! Are you there? Why
don't you answer?"
He paused: no sound for seconds that dragged like so many minutes, then of
a sudden a deadened noise like the slam of a door heard afar--or a pistol
shot at some distance from the telephone in the study.
Further and frantic importuning of the cold and unresponsive wire
presently was silenced by a new voice, little like that of Shaik Tsin.
"Hello? Who's there? I say: that you, Prince Victor?"
Involuntarily Victor cried: "Karslake!" "What gorgeous luck! I've been
wanting a word with you all evening."
"What has happened? Why did Shaik Tsin--?"
"Oh, most unfortunate about him--frightfully sorry, but it really couldn't
be helped, if he hadn't fought back we wouldn't have had to shoot him. You
see, the old devil murdered Sturm to-night, for some reason I daresay you
understand better than I: we found a paper on the beggar, written in
Chinese, apparently an order for his assassination signed by you.
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