"Ah—the Manchester South bye-election. That was a good many years ago."
"But I remember it quite well. I remember you visiting us a lot in those days, and also a man called Terry, who used to do chemistry experiments in the kitchen."
"Terry!" I echoed; and then, before I knew what I was saying, I had replied: "He's in Paris now."
"Is he?" she exclaimed. "Oh, I would like to see him. He must be getting quite old."
"Thirty-one. That's not old."
"It sounds horribly old to me."
I don't know what answer I made; I only know that I was thinking furiously: She's bound to tell Helen that Terry's in Paris, and then what will happen? ... The blunder was clumsy and irrevocable, for I dared not face June's puzzled eyes by asking her not to mention Terry to her mother. The only thing to hope for was that he and I would be on our way to England before any complications could ensue.
IV
And that, by the grace of God, was what happened.
We reached the Gare du Nord at breakfast-time and drove straight to the Crillon, where I engaged rooms for them. After hasty cups of coffee we went on to the hospital, and there, in the corridor outside Severn's room, I left them. The sister said that there was no change in his condition, and it seemed to me that I had better leave them to visit him by themselves. Helen barely nodded a farewell, but June, though her thoughts were obviously elsewhere, was polite enough to thank me for my escort.