cablegram.

"At Cairo," she said, with a little gasp of relief. After all Cairo was
not so far. A week, and one was at Cairo.

"Further south, in the Sudan--Heaven knows where!"

"Too far then?" she suggested. "Too far."

"For you? Yes! Too far," Luttrell replied.

Stella lifted a tragic face towards him; and though he winced he met her
eyes.

"But you are not going! You can't go!"

Luttrell handed to her the second paper.

"You never wrote this," she said very quickly.

"Yet it is what I would have written."

Stella Croyle shot one swift glance at Sir Charles Hardiman. She had
recognised his handwriting. Hardiman was in Luttrell's cabin while the
rest of the party waited on the deck and the launch throbbed at the
gangway. If a woman's glance had power, he would have been stricken that
instant. But she wasted no more than a glance upon the worldly-wiseman
at the head of their table. She turned again to the first telegram.

"This is an answer, this cablegram from Cairo?"