"We didn't," Hobson replied bitterly. "We've sent a representative
over to sit on the box with the broken seals till they can open it at
the Foreign Office in London, but I never believed they'd find
anything there. I'm damned certain they won't now!"

A waiter had answered the bell.

"Don't have our luggage brought up," Crawshay directed. "We are
leaving for New York to-night. That's so, isn't it, Hobson?" he added,
turning to his companion.

"You bet!" was the grim reply. "I'd give a thousand dollars to be
there now."

"The Limited's sold out," the man told them. "There are two or three
persons who've been disappointed, staying on here till to-morrow."

"I'll get you on the train," Downs promised. "I can do as much as that
for you, anyway. I'll stop and go on to the station with you from
here. I'm very sorry about this, Hobson," he continued, fingering the
dispatch. "We shall have to get right along to the station, but if
there's anything I can do after you've left, command me."

"You might wire New York," Hobson suggested, as he struggled into his
overcoat. "Tell 'em to look out for the _City of Boston_, and to hold
her up for me if they can. I've got it in my bones that Jocelyn Thew
is running this show and that he is on that steamer."

"Those fellows at Washington must have collected some useful stuff,"