"By Jove," said Desmond, "there was a letter from Cox's at the club this morning but I was so rushed to catch my train that I shoved it in my pocket and forgot all about it. I wrote and asked them weeks ago to get my kit back from France. Here we are!"
He pulled a letter out of his pocket, slit open the envelope and took out a printed form. Barbara, propping herself up with one hand on his shoulder, leaned over him to read the communication. This is what she read.
"We are advised," the form ran, "that a Wolseley valise forwarded to you on the 16th inst. from France has been lost by enemy action. We are enclosing a compensation form which..."
But neither troubled to read further.
"Gone to the bottom, by Jove!" cried Desmond. "But isn't it strange," he went on, "to think of the Star of Poland lying out there on the bed of the Channel? Well, I'm not so sure that it isn't the best place for it. It won't create any further trouble in this world at least!"
"Poor Nur-el-Din!" sighed the girl.
They sat awhile in silence together and watched the gulls circling unceasingly above the receding tide.
"You're leaving here to-morrow then?" said Desmond presently.