"Nothing serious, I suppose?" said Mortimer, staring after him.
"Deuced serious," cried Scott. "The ham and eggs are burned! No--it's
all right--saved, and done to a turn! Pull the box up, Anerley.
Come on, Mortimer, stow that notebook! The fork is mightier than the
pen just at present. What's the matter with you, Anerley?"
"I was wondering whether what we have just seen was worth a telegram."
"Well, it's for the proprietors to say if it's worth it. Sordid money
considerations are not for us. We must wire about something just to
justify our khaki coats and our putties."
"But what is there to say?"
Mortimer's long, austere face broke into a smile over the youngster's
innocence. "It's not quite usual in our profession to give each other
tips," said he. "However, as my telegram is written, I've no objection
to your reading it. You may be sure that I would not show it to you if
it were of the slightest importance."
Anerley took up the slip of paper and read:--
Merryweather obstacles stop journey confer general stop nature
difficulties later stop rumours dervishes.
"This is very condensed," said Anerley, with wrinkled brows.
"Condensed!" cried Scott. "Why, it's sinfully garrulous. If my old man
got a wire like that his language would crack the lamp-shades.
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