I walked into this room a few minutes before eleven on the morning after I had entertained Titherington in my hotel.
“The lady hasn’t arrived yet,” I said.
“She’s gone,” said Titherington. “She was here at half-past eight o’clock.”
I noticed that Titherington spoke in a subdued way and that his eyes had a furtive expression I had never seen in them before. I felt encouraged to give expression to the annoyance which I felt. I told Titherington plainly that I thought he ought not to have changed the hour of the interview without telling me. It seemed to me that he had played me a mean trick and I resented it. Greatly to my surprise Titherington apologized meekly.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he said, “and I hadn’t time to communicate with you. I only got this at twenty minutes past eight and had no more than time to get here myself.”
He handed me a telegram.
“Eleven quite impossible. Say 8.30. Jun. Soph. Ord. begins at 9.30. Lalage Beresford.”
“I was just sitting down to breakfast,” said Titherington, “and I had to get up without swallowing so much as a cup of tea and hop on to a car. She’s a tremendously prompt young woman.”
“She is,” I said, “and always was.”
“You know her then?”