“I’ve an important telegram,” he stammered. “We must go home at once: somebody ill. Let me have my bill. What time’s the next train to London?”
I looked at the clock.
“In half an hour, sir,” I said.
“Order a fly to the door, then. We shall be ready. Pack your things, dear,” he said to the young lady; and then, turning to me, “Let me have the bill at once.”
This new turn worried me more than anything. There was evidently something very wrong. Harry agreed with me, and we both felt glad they were going.
I took up the bill, and he paid it, and said he was sorry to have to go, and he gave me half-a-sovereign, saying, “For the servants,” and then he and the young lady went downstairs and got into the fly.
I noticed that she had a thick veil on, but I could see she had been crying and was trembling like an aspen leaf.
When they had driven off, I said to Harry, “Thank goodness they’re gone! It’s quite a load off my mind.”
“Well,” he said, “it’s a rum go. We’ve been trying all we know to get people to come to our house, and when they do come we’re jolly glad to get rid of them.”
I didn’t answer him, but I never got Mr. and Mrs. Smith out of my head all that afternoon, and I made up my mind they’d be a mystery to me for the rest of my life.