“Well,” Tavernake agreed, “I must try what I can do, then. There is nothing else fresh, I suppose?”
“Nothing,” the solicitor answered. “Come back, if you can make any definite arrangement, or telephone. The matter is really bothering me a little. I don't want to have the other people slip in now.”...
Tavernake, instead of obeying his first impulse and making his way direct to the Milan Court, walked to the flat in Kingsway, climbed up the stone steps, and asked for Beatrice. She met him at her own door, fully dressed.
“My dear Leonard!” she exclaimed, in surprise. “What an early caller!”
“I want a few words with you,” he said. “Can you spare me five minutes?”
“You must walk with me to the theatre,” she replied, “I am just off to rehearsal.”
They descended the stairs together.
“I have something to tell you,” Tavernake began, “something to tell you which you won't like to hear.”
“Something which I won't like to hear,” she repeated, fearfully. “Go on, Leonard. It can't be worse than it sounds.”
“I don't know why I've come to tell you,” he went on. “I never meant to. It came into my mind all of a sudden and I felt that I must. It has to do with your sister and the Marston Rise affair.”