The train arrived at a quarter past eleven, and it was half an hour's motor-run to the Hall. On such a night as this it might take longer.
The time crept on. Soon after half-past eleven Pamela sprang up from her chair. "I'm sure I heard a motor," she said, and ran to the window.
"It's too early yet," Mrs. Eldridge said; but Pamela had drawn back the curtains. The strong headlights of a big car were already swinging round to the hall door.
They went out, and Mrs. Eldridge opened the door, as the bell rang. It was Lord Eldridge who was standing there, already unfastening his heavy fur coat.
He slipped it off as he came in. He was in his evening clothes. "How is he?" he asked, without any other greeting. "Has the nurse come yet?"
Many emotions crossed Mrs. Eldridge's mind, but the chief of them, in spite of her disappointment, and the resentment she had nurtured against him, was relief at his appearance; for it seemed to her that if anything ought to be done, he could do it.
When he heard of the nurse expected, he considered, watch in hand, whether it would be worth while to motor back in his fast car towards the station, but decided against it. In a few minutes the doctor and the nurse would be coming. He went into the morning-room with Pamela, while Mrs. Eldridge went upstairs again.
"I only got your message just before nine o'clock," he said. "They didn't know where to find me."
She stood before him, looking up into his face. "I haven't told mother I tried to get you," she said, "in case you couldn't come. I knew you would if you could, Uncle Bill."'