Austin Starr unceremoniously clutched Lorimer’s arm.
“Say, Mr. Home Secretary, this does it! Roger Carling’s saved? You’ll put the order for his release through right now?”
“It will have to be ‘the King’s pardon,’ of course, and it will be put through at the earliest possible moment. Thank God that—that extraordinary old villain confessed to-night!”
“When will Roger be home?”
“That I cannot say at the moment—possibly to-morrow.”
“I may ’phone right now to his poor young wife?”
“Assuredly; and I will telephone to her myself later.”
Austin glanced round the room. A telephone was there, but concealed under a tall Sèvres china doll gorgeously arrayed in Louis-Seize court costume, and he couldn’t see it. Downstairs he dashed, and seized the instrument in the hall.
“Victoria ten-four-double-three, quick please! That you, Grace? Austin speaking. Oh, my dear girl, it’s all right! Roger’s saved—cleared! He’ll be home as soon as ever the Home Secretary can fix it. Old Thomson’s confessed everything right now. It was he who murdered Lady Rawson!”