Martin touched the cool fingertips.
"There's nothing wrong with me, Lady Fleet," he told her. "It was very kind of you to take such trouble." Then he turned to H.M., the rush of gratitude showing in his face. "Sir," he said, "I don't know how I'm going to thank…"
H.M., to conceal an exploding embarrassment which he would have denied under torture, raved and bellowed and shouted at him (for getting up) to such an extent that nobody could understand what the great man was saying. But Martin cut it short
"H.M., how did you know someone might try to — to—" he hesitated.
To push you off the roof?" ELM. supplied. "
To… what?" cried Aunt Cicely in horror.
H.M., his expression wooden, replied only by extending his own hands and making a lunging motion.
"But it was an accident" pleaded Aunt Cicely, retreating. Her eyes and mouth begged them to reassure her. "Sophia said so. Dr. Laurier said so. I've always thought something might happen when the young people used that roof for parties, with drinks and everything. But they get older, you know, and you simply can't do anything with them."
Her voice ran on, telling them Sophia said it only went to show, but Martin was not listening.
"H.M.," he insisted, "how did you know?"