“Ah! Calengrove Mansions, Maida Vale,” he said. “Um—quarter of an hour’s drive. Tertius—you and I will go and see this young fellow at once.”
Mr. Tertius turned to Professor Cox-Raythwaite.
“What do you think of this, Cox-Raythwaite?” he asked, almost piteously. “I mean—what do you think’s best to be done?”
The Professor, who had stood apart with Selwood during the episode which had just concluded, pulling his great beard and looking very big and black and formidable, jerked his thumb in the direction of the old lawyer.
“Do what Halfpenny says,” he growled. “See this other witness. And—but here, I’ll have a word with you in the hall.”
He said good-bye in a gruffly affectionate way to Peggie, patted her shoulder and her head as if she were a child, and followed the two other men out. Peggie, left alone with Selwood, turned to him. There was something half-appealing in her face, and Selwood suddenly drove his hands deep into his pockets, clenched them there, and put a tight hold on himself.
“It’s all different!” exclaimed Peggie, dropping into a chair and clasping her hands on her knees. “All so different! And I feel so utterly helpless.”
“Scarcely that,” said Selwood, with an effort to speak calmly. “You’ve got Mr. Tertius, and Mr. Halfpenny, and the Professor, and—and if there’s anything—anything I can do, don’t you know, why, I——”
Peggie impulsively stretched out a hand—and Selwood, not trusting himself, affected not to see it. To take Peggie’s hand at that moment would have been to let loose a flood of words which he was resolved not to utter just then, if ever. He moved across to the desk and pretended to sort and arrange some loose papers.
“We’ll—all—all—do everything we can,” he said, trying to keep any tremor out of his voice. “Everything you know, of course.”