“You might at least have telegraphed back to ask me to confirm the instructions, when you read the second despatch,” said Maitland.
He was beginning to take an argumentative interest in the strength of his own case. It was certainly very strong, and the excuse for the schoolmistress was weak in proportion.
“But that would have been of no use, as it happens,” Janey put in—an unexpected and welcome ally to Miss Marlett—“because you must have left Paddington long before the question could have reached you.”
This was unanswerable, as a matter of fact; and Miss Marlett could not repress a grateful glance in the direction of her wayward pupil.
“Well,” said Maitland, “it is all very provoking, and very serious. Can you remember at all how the second message ran, Miss Marlett?”
“Indeed, I know it off by heart; it was directed exactly like that in your hand, and was dated half an hour later. It ran: ‘Plans altered. Margaret required in town. My friend and her father’s, Mr. Lithgow, will call for her soon after mid-day. I noticed there were just twenty words.”
“And did you also notice the office from which the message was sent out?”
“No,” said Miss Marlett, shaking her head with an effort at recollection. “I am afraid I did not notice.”
“That is very unfortunate,” said Maitland, walking vaguely up and down the room. “Do you think the telegram is absolutely lost?”
“I have looked everywhere, and asked all the maids.”