"N-no. But you can surely understand my feelings—my anxiety. She—she has been a good daughter."
Bullard nodded. "It won't be my fault," he said quietly, "if Doris regrets marrying me."
"Thank you, Bullard." As though ashamed of his emotion the older man immediately changed the subject. "Anything fresh this morning?"
The other smiled. "One moment." He got up, went to a cabinet and came back with a glass containing a little brandy. "The journey to the City has tired you. Drink up!"
"Thanks; you are thoughtful." Lancaster took a few sips, and went white.
"Bullard, have you something bad to tell me?"
"Finish your brandy. … Well, it might have been worse. Steady! Don't get excited, or I shan't tell you."
After a moment—"Go on," said Lancaster.
"Marvel has come back from Canada."
"Ah! … But I always feared he would. More money, I suppose?"
"Precisely. Only he brought a piece of news which I have so far refused to credit, though doubtless stranger things have happened. Pull yourself together. Marvel declares that, a fortnight ago, he saw Alan Craig in the flesh."