"Yes," said Mr. Mudge, gravely; "news so bad that you must ask your other friend to help you. I can do nothing here."
It cost Mr. Mudge a little to acknowledge that he was of no avail in this particular instance. He would rather have served Pamela himself, had it been possible. He was fully aware of his age, and his looks, and his limitations. He was quite willing to stand aside for the other friend; indeed, he wished, with all his heart, that she should be happy with some mate of her own people. But at the same time he wished her to owe as much as possible of her happiness to him. He was her friend, but there was just that element of jealousy in his friendship which springs up when the friends are man and woman. Pamela understood that it meant some abnegation on his part to bid her call upon another than himself. She was still more impressed, in consequence, with the gravity of the news he had to convey.
"Is it Mr. Callon?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "It is imperative that Sir Anthony Stretton should return, and return at once. Of that I am very sure."
"You have seen Mr. Callon?" asked Pamela.
"And Lady Stretton. They were together."
"When?"
"Last night. In Regent's Park."
Pamela hesitated. She was doubtful how to put her questions. She said--
"And you are sure the trouble is urgent?"