Lord Manton lit a fresh cigarette, his fourth, and waited. Mr. Goddard sought for words in which to express his feelings. He might have found them in time, but time was not given him. Wilkins entered the room.
“There is a lady to see you, sir,” he said to Mr. Goddard. “I showed her into the small drawing-room. She said she wished to see you particular.”
“Good God!” said Mr. Goddard. “It’s Miss Blow!”
“Is it Miss Blow?” said Lord Manton to Wilkins. “Don’t attempt to break the news to him if it is. Tell him straight out. It’s kinder in the end.”
“It’s the same young lady,” said Wilkins, “that called on your lordship two days ago.”
“The young lady that was talking about bringing a corpse here? I told you, I remember, to get white flowers from the gardener. Is it that young lady?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And has she brought it this time?”
“Not that I saw, my lord.”
“If you didn’t see it, Wilkins, I think we may take it for granted that it isn’t there.”