Varney stretched and yawned. "Well, he isn't."
"Doubtless I am a stupid ass and all that," said Peter, staring, "but
with the _Gazette_ publishing it about the countryside that you are a
yellow dog of the worst nature, I don't grasp how you expect Miss
Carstairs to come on this yacht and lunch with you."
A knock sounded on the stateroom door, and McTosh entered, announcing
two telegrams for Mr. Varney.
Varney, wondering a little who had known his whereabouts, took the
yellow envelopes, nodded to the steward not to wait, broke them open,
read the typewritten words within, read them again.
Then he looked up and found Peter gazing at him more or less
expectantly.
Varney laughed. "Do you remember that night at the club my saying to
you, as a great inducement: 'Suppose the New York papers get on to
this'?"
Peter nodded.
Varney handed him the yellow slips; then he arose and pushed the service
button.
"McTosh," he said, "send to town at once and get me copies of the _Sun_,
the _Times_, the _Daily_ and the _Herald_--all the New York papers. No,
go yourself, and don't stay longer than is absolutely necessary."
Peter, meantime, with a heart beating as it had not beat the night
before when he had overthrown Ryan and stolen his meeting, was reading
the following:
_Daily_ story has got us all guessing. If it's really
you, what the devil are you up to, anyway?
R. E. TOWNES.
The other was in a similar vein:
Alarming story in _Daily_ to-day. Absolute secrecy a
prerequisite as explained. Reporters tried to reach me
to-night. Trust you fully, but implore you to proceed
with utmost caution.
ELBERT CARSTAIRS.
"The plot thickens," said Peter when Varney turned back, "till I, for
one, can't see the drift. However--you've sent for the _Daily_?"
Varney nodded. "I told him to get three or four others, too, for a
blind."
"Politics," said Peter, in his calmest fighting manner, "is all off. I'm
not the least interested in it. We'll give the morning to studying
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