He stood in the middle of the room for a moment or two without moving. Then he crossed to his table, reached out to the send-hook, and quickly unspeared the message.
He looked at it for several moments. Then he passed his hands over his tired eyes and reread the words. They were addressed to Enrique Luis Carbo, Locombian Consulate, New Orleans, and they said:
Am on board Laminian, bound from New York to Puerto Locombia. Advise necessary quarters. Alicia Boynton.
McKinnon was still peering down at the message in his hand when he was startled by the sound of someone at his door. Even before he could restore the message to the hook his door was opened and as quickly closed again.
It was the girl who had just left him. He noticed that she held one hand on her breast and that she was panting. She leaned against the jamb for a minute or two, as though weak from fright.
"What is it?" the operator asked.
"Oh, it's nothing," she faltered, struggling bravely enough to regain her composure. Her answer was not altogether convincing.
"What has happened?" persisted the startled operator.
