“Any—any other news, Slummers?”
Slummers smiled behind his hand.
“I have been to Cheltenham Terrace. We were rightly informed, sir. Old Mr. Treherne is dead, and Miss Treherne has disappeared.”
Stephen drew a breath of relief.
“Indeed,” he said. “Very good. Let me see, is there anything else?”
Slummers coughed.
“Nothing, sir, except to remind you that you have to speak at the charitable meeting tomorrow night.”
“Ah, yes, thank you, very good, Slummers. Be good enough to hand me the last charitable reports. Good-night.”