“Oh, damn!” said Mr. Fortune. “Stop the bus.” He sprang out, looked down for a moment at the foam and the eddies and dived after her.
Some minutes afterwards he arrived at the bank with Miss Darcourt in tow and waddled out, dragging her after him without delicacy and swearing in gasps. She was in no case to protest. She did not hear. Mr. Fortune rolled her over and knelt beside her.
“What’ll I do, sir? Can’t I do something?” cried the chauffeur.
“Police-station,” Reggie panted. “Bring down the Inspector or the Superintendent. Quick! Damn quick!” And he wrought with Miss Darcourt’s body. . . .
He looked up at the large shape of Superintendent Bell. “Suicide, sir?”
“Attempted suicide. She’ll do, I think. Wrap her in every dam’ thing you’ve got and take her to hospital quick.”
“I know this game, sir,” Bell said, and stooped and gathered the woman up: “you run along home.”
“Run!” said Reggie. “My only aunt.”
In the morning when he rang for his letters, “Superintendent Bell called, sir,” said the maid. “About eight it was. He said I wasn’t to waken you. He only wanted to tell you she was going on all right. And there’s a message by telephone from Mr. Lomas. He says you should be at Paddington by twelve, car will meet you, very urgent. And to tell you he has the body.”
“Oh, my Lord!” said Reggie. He sprang out of bed. Superintendent Bell was rung up and told to commit himself to nothing over Albert Edward Loveday and his mistress.