Alice Deringham turned, and saw the girl’s fingers flittering across the paper, but her face was still hidden and the monotonous voice continued, “We made a few advances during the last week or two.”

The other passengers had gone out of the saloon, and it was very quiet save for the soft flow of words and rattle of the pencil, when Deringham once more unfolded the telegram.

“I am afraid it is going hardly with the man,” he said suggestively.  “‘My partner met with accident—­his condition is critical.’  The message left Somasco yesterday.”

There was a rustle at the adjoining table, and the girl’s pencil fell to the floor.

“Will you wait a moment, please?” a voice said, and the dictation broke off abruptly, while when the girl rose Alice Deringham found herself suddenly confronted with Miss Townshead.  Deringham, who stood up, made her a little decorous inclination.

“I am pleased to see you again,” he said.

The speech was apparently lost upon the girl, who did not seem to notice his daughter’s greeting.

“I could not avoid hearing a few words of yours,” she said.  “Mr. Alton—­or his partner—­is seriously ill.”

Deringham handed her the telegram, and stood watching her curiously while she read it.  He saw her lips set a trifle, and a slight lowering of her eyes, but though the girl seemed to draw in her breath he fancied it was not with consternation.

“That is all we know,” he said.

Miss Townshead gave him back the message, but Deringham did not see her face, for she and his daughter seemed to be looking at each other.  They formed a somewhat curious contrast, for Alice Deringham appeared taller and more stately than she was in her costly furs, and Nellie Townshead very slight and almost shabby in her thin and well-worn dress.  Neither spoke for a moment, but the half-amiable condescension in Miss Deringham’s attitude was a trifle too marked.

“I am afraid that is all we can tell you,” she said.  “Mr. Alton has evidently met with a serious accident, and we are going up at once to Somasco to see what we can do for him.”

Deringham moved a trifle and glanced at his daughter.  She had said very little, but there was a subtle something in her tone and bearing which implied a good deal, and he fancied it was not lost upon Miss Townshead.

The latter, however, glanced round towards her employer, and her face was once more expressionless as she said, “Then I hope you will find him progressing favourably, and it would be a kindness to my father and myself if you or Mr. Seaforth would send us word.”

She went back to her duties, and Deringham smiled a little as the monotonous voice commenced again.  “That’s all right, Miss Townshead.  Now where was I?  Oh, yes, we should not recommend any further advances.  Did I tell him we had to negotiate Tyrer’s bond at a discount?”

“You seem to have reversed your decision somewhat suddenly,” he said.  “I had not noticed it before, but Miss Townshead is distinctly pretty.  She was, I believe, on tolerably good terms with our afflicted kinsman.”