When Hennion came to the Champney house again, it was a little before six. He saw through the door to the library Mr. Champney's white head bent down drowsily, where he sat in his chair.
Miss Eunice came down the stairs, agitated, mysterious, and beckoned him into the parlour. She showed him the crumpled newspaper.
“I don't understand Camilla's behaviour, Richard! She went out suddenly. I found the paper in the store-room. It is so unlike her! I don't understand, Richard!”
Hennion glanced at the front page, and stood thinking for a moment.
“Well—you'd better iron it out, Miss Eunice, before you take it to Mr. Champney. Milly will be back soon, but if you're worrying, you see, it might be just as well. He might be surprised.”
He left the house, took a car up Franklin Street and got off at the corner by the Assembly Hall. The side door was ajar.
He went in and heard voices, but not from Aidee's study, the door of which stood open, its windows glimmering with the remaining daylight. The voices came from the distance, down the hallway, probably from the Assembly Hall. He recognised Aidee's voice, and turned, and went back to the street door, out of hearing of the words.
“It's the other man's innings,” he thought ruefully. But, he thought too, that Milly was in trouble. His instinct to be in the neighbourhood when Milly was in trouble was too strong to be set aside. He leaned his shoulder against the side of the door, jammed his hands in his pockets, stood impassively, and meditated, and admired the mechanism of things.