Passing the door of the telegraph-room he heard little sounds from the instrument, which somebody was working.
Only two people in the castle, to the best of his knowledge, knew the trick of this; Miss Power, and a page in her service called John.

Miss De Stancy could also despatch messages, but she was at Myrtle Villa.
The door was closed, and much as he would have liked to enter, the possibility that Paula was not the performer led him to withhold his steps.

He went on to where the uppermost masonry had resisted the mighty hostility of the elements for five hundred years without receiving worse dilapidation than half-a-century produces upon the face of man.

But he still wondered who was telegraphing, and whether the message bore on housekeeping, architecture, theatricals, or love.
Could Somerset have seen through the panels of the door in passing, he would have beheld the room occupied by Paula alone.
It was she who sat at the instrument, and the message she was despatching ran as under:-- 'Can you send down a competent actress, who will undertake the part of Princess of France in "Love's Labour's Lost" this evening in a temporary theatre here?
Dresses already provided suitable to a lady about the middle height.

State price.' The telegram was addressed to a well-known theatrical agent in London.
Off went the message, and Paula retired into the next room, leaving the door open between that and the one she had just quitted.