Having read this interesting announcement through slowly and carefully, Tony laid down the paper and sat back in his chair. So Congosta had been right! Underneath all the rather penny coloured plotting and cheap melodrama that had surrounded Isabel's story, a savagely real piece of European history had been silently coming to fruition. He had never doubted the fact himself, but somehow or other those flaming head-lines in the _Mail_ suddenly brought it home to him with a vivid reality that had hitherto been wanting. It was as if the buttons had come off the foils, and what had hitherto been an entertaining fencing match had turned abruptly into a thrilling and dangerous duel. With a pleasing sense of elation he drew up his chair, and prepared to face the grilled sole that the waiter was just bringing in. "You might tell my chauffeur," he said, "that we will start back at half-past ten instead of eleven." The waiter went out with the message, but a couple of minutes had hardly elapsed before he came back into the room bearing a telegram upon a small tray. "If you please, sir," he said, "one of the sailors from your yacht has called with this. He is waiting in the hall in case you want him." With a certain feeling of surprise Tony laid down his knife and fork, and slitting open the buff-coloured envelope, pulled out its contents. They were brief and distinctly to the point. Isabel has disappeared; fear the worst; come back immediately. GUY. CHAPTER XVII A DECOY MESSAGE Guy must have heard the car turning in at the drive, for as they drew up in front of the house, he flung open the door and stepped out to meet them. He looked white and haggard in the bright morning sunshine. "You got my wire?" was his first remark. Tony, who was at the wheel, nodded his head, and climbed stiffly out of his seat. Hardened as he was to rapid driving, he felt something like a momentary reaction now that the return journey had been accomplished without disaster. "Come into the house, Guy," he said. "You look like an advertisement for Sanatogen." They entered the hall, where Tony took off his coat and threw it across the back of one of the chairs. "Now," he said. "Tell me all about it." "Da Freitas has got hold of Isabel," said Guy, making an effort to speak quietly. "She left Chester Square at nine o'clock this morning, and we have heard nothing of her since." There was a brief pause. "Go on," said Tony. "How did it happen?"