"
It was my turn to stare dumbly before I could manage to ask: "For
Tolosa?" in a very knowing tone.
Whether it was the droop of his head, play of light, or some other
subtle cause, his nose seemed to have grown perceptibly longer.
"That, Senor, is the place where the news has got to be conveyed
without undue delay," he said in an agitated wheeze. "I could, of
course, telegraph to our agent in Bayonne who would find a
messenger. But I don't like, I don't like! The Alphonsists have
agents, too, who hang about the telegraph offices. It's no use
letting the enemy get that news."
He was obviously very confused, unhappy, and trying to think of two
different things at once.
"Sit down, Don George, sit down." He absolutely forced a cigar on
me. "I am extremely distressed. That--I mean Dona Rita is
undoubtedly on her way to Tolosa. This is very frightful."
I must say, however, that there was in the man some sense of duty.
He mastered his private fears. After some cogitation he murmured:
"There is another way of getting the news to Headquarters. Suppose
you write me a formal letter just stating the facts, the
unfortunate facts, which I will be able to forward. There is an
agent of ours, a fellow I have been employing for purchasing
supplies, a perfectly honest man.
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