"I see...."
But I didn't see. I stood under the light in my small lobby and tore open the envelope. The letter was pencilled and very short. Just this:
"DEAR HILTON,—The most extraordinary thing has happened, and I want you to get down here to-morrow morning if you possibly can. I'll meet the 10.15 at Haslemere. I don't think it's any use my trying to write any details, but I'll tell you this much to reassure you—it's good news. At least I think it is. Do come to-morrow.
"JUNE."
Helen entered from my sitting-room, and before I had time to think, I said: "It's from June."
"June?" she echoed; and then, with what may or may not have been sarcasm, added: "If it isn't too private, may I see it?"
I gave it to her, and just for a moment while she was reading I wondered if she were going to treat it as she had done Severn's. But at last she handed it back to me, saying sharply: "It tells us nothing."
"Most likely whatever has happened is too complicated to write down," I answered. "Anyhow, June says it's good news."
"She says she thinks it's good news."
"Which you fear may not be quite the same thing?"
"Fear?" There was fear in her voice. "I think I fear everything."