"I think," said the bishop, "that I shall have a glass of Vichy. Will you have anything more, dear boy?"
"No, thanks, father," Lord Hayle answered, "but I will ring the bell for you."
He pressed the button, and the waiter came into the room, shortly afterwards returning with the bishop's aerated water.
Lord Hayle was well known at the Randolph. He sometimes gave dinners there, in preference to using the Mitre or the Clarendon. He and the duke sometimes dined there together.
As he was sitting with his father, quietly talking over the events of the day, one of the managers of the hotel came hurriedly into the smoking-room and up to the earl and the viscount.
"My lord," he said, and his face was very white and agitated. "I fear I have very sad news for you."
There was something in the man's voice that made both the bishop and his son turn round in alarm.
"What is it?" said Lord Hayle.
"My lord," the manager continued, "a telegram has just reached us that there has been a terrible railway accident to the six o'clock train from here to Paddington. We are informed that the Duke of Paddington, your friend, my lord, was in the train, and it is feared that his grace has been killed."