"Not since last night."
"Or to Salisbury?"
"No. I inquired on the chance, but no message had come."
"It is horrible!" she exclaimed. "I'm the most miserable woman on earth!"
"Don't cry," he begged despairingly.
"No," she said, "I won't. Do you think it would be any good to telegraph to Aunt Eliza and Lady Scarsdale?"
"I have already done so. Your Aunt Eliza has left for Paris. She wouldn't have done that if she had heard about this; and it gave Lady Scarsdale a fit—the telegram I mean—but she didn't know anything."
"Is that all?"
"Not quite. I have telegraphed to my Vice-Consul at Christchurch, asking for news of Scarsdale, and telling him to forward anything that had come for me. They might have written there, you know, to save talk in the office; but I haven't as yet had a reply."
"I must consult Lady Melton; the situation is too dreadful for words. Suppose they have had an accident; suppose——" she faltered.