Colin had been expected all one long July afternoon. His announcement of his arrival had been ambiguous, for he might catch the early train from Paris, and thus the earlier boat, but the connection was uncertain, and if he missed it he would not get to Dover till six in the evening. In that case he would sleep in London, and come down to Stanier next day.
Philip had read this out at breakfast that morning, and for once Violet shewed some interest in Colin.
“Why not send a motor to Dover, Uncle Philip?” she said. “It can get there in time for the first boat, and if he is not on it, it can wait for the second. He will arrive here then by dinner time.”
Raymond looked up from his paper at the sound of her voice.
“Vi, darling, what an absurd plan,” he said. “There are a hundred chances to one on Colin’s not finding the motor. He’ll get straight into the train from the boat.”
Violet instantly retreated into that strange shell of hers again.
“Ah, yes,” she said.
Philip’s curiosity put forth a horn at this. There was some new element here, for Raymond seemed to resent the idea of special arrangements being made for Colin.
“That’s not a bad idea of yours, Violet,” he said. “It will save Colin going up to London.”
As he spoke he kept a sideways eye on Raymond.