"Our enquiries are not answered," he said sharply. "We are trying to get into touch with another office." No one spoke for a minute. Even to Monsignor, who still found it hard always to understand the communication-system of the time, it was obvious that something must have happened. He knew that Southminster Castle had been put into wireless touch with the great Marconi office in Parliament Square, and that a failure to be answered meant that something unexpected had happened. But it was entirely impossible to conjecture for certain what this something might be. "That is serious?" remarked Lady Southminster, without moving a muscle. "I suppose so," said her son, and sat down again. Then the man who was looking out of the window turned and came back into the room, latching the shutters and putting the curtains into place. "Well, Jack?" asked the General. "I have counted eight or nine volors," he said; "usually there are only two at this time. I went to look for them." "Which way?" "Three this way and five the other." Monsignor did not dare to ask for an interpretation. But he was aware that the air of tenseness in the room tightened up still further. The General got up. "Southminster," he said, "I think I'll take a stroll outside if I may. One might see something, you know." "Go up to the keep, if you like. There's a covered path most of the way up. There's a look-out there, you know. I had one set in case the wireless failed. At any rate, they may see the rockets farther along the coast." Monsignor too stood up. His restlessness increased every moment, although he scarcely knew why. "May I come with you too?" he said. "Will your Eminence excuse me?" (II) The two said nothing as they went out through the dimly lighted hall. Overhead hung the old banners in the high wooden roof; a great fire blazed on the hearth; and under the musician's gallery at the farther end they saw the bright little window behind which sat the secretary. They stopped here and peered in. He was seated with his back to them before an instrument not altogether unlike an old-fashioned organ. A long row of black keys was in front of him; and half a dozen stops protruded on either side. Before him, in the front, a glass panel protected some kind of white sheet; and as the priest looked in he could see a movement as of small bluish sparks playing upon this. He had long ago made up his mind not to attempt to understand modern machinery; and he had no kind of idea what all this meant, beyond a guess that the keys were for sending messages, and the white sheet for receiving them. "Any news?" said the General suddenly. The secretary did not move or answer. His hands were before him, hidden, and he appeared entirely absorbed. It must have been a minute before he turned round, drawing out as he did so from before him a slip of paper like those he had already brought in.