“It is all right, Austin, good friend. I am not mad. Yes, we will go—to Roger. It was good of you to see me, Sir Robert. I will forget what you have said; you will know better soon—at the ninth hour. Good-bye. Come, Austin.”
She moved towards the door, scarcely seeming to need Austin’s support, and when it closed behind them Sir Robert covered his eyes with his hand and sank back on his pillows.
As they went down the wide staircase Thomson silently appeared on the landing, and, after a moment’s hesitation, followed them. Jenkins met them in the hall, ceremoniously ushered them out, and opened the door of the waiting taxi. Austin helped Grace into the cab and was about to follow her when Thomson crossed the pavement.
“Half a minute, Mr. Jenkins. Can I have a word with you, Mr. Starr?”
Jenkins retreated, imagining that Thomson had come with a message from his master, and Austin turned.
“Well, what is it?”
“This way, if you don’t mind, sir,” said Thomson, drawing him a little aside. “Am I right in thinking that you and Mrs. Carling have been to ask my master to use his influence on behalf of Mr. Carling?”
“You are, and he has refused,” said Austin curtly.
“I feared as much, sir. And there’s no hope that Mr. Lorimer, the Home Secretary, or the King himself, even now——”
“None that I can see.”