He purposely kept the immediate practical issue before them both. Both knew that a darker abyss of thought lay in wait, but neither could envisage it yet.
At the police station, Lucian obtained leave from the Inspector-in-Charge for Mrs. Aviolet to see her son.
They were conducted along whitewashed passages, Rose, looking neither to right nor left of her, but walking with her head well up, gazing straight in front of her.
The doctor let her enter the cell alone, and followed the Inspector to the end of the passage, where the man paused.
“Are you going in, sir?”
“I don’t think so. Not unless they call me. What do you make of this business, Inspector?”
“Very sad for the young gentleman’s people, I’m afraid, sir,” said the official, non-committally.
“I’ve known the boy all his life, and his people before him. You know who they are, of course. He could have applied to them for money, if he’d been in difficulties.”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“Has he got any excuse—any reason, for what he did?”