"I wonder how Mrs. Carstairs will decide," he said to himself as he drove homewards. "Whatever her decision I suppose I must abide by it; but for myself I sincerely hope she will stick to her first view of the matter."
And then he dismissed the subject from his thoughts for the moment, little dreaming of the awful and tragic manner in which the decision was to be taken out of Chloe Carstairs' hands in the course of the next few hours.
He was just thinking of going to bed that night when the telephone bell rang sharply; and with one of those strange premonitions to which all highly-strung people are at times liable, he connected the call instantly with the affair at Cherry Orchard.
"Yes ... I'm Dr. Anstice ... who is it?"
"Carstairs," came the answer over the wire. "I say, Anstice, can you come at once? Something appalling has happened—Tochatti—she—she's——"
"She has killed herself." The words were more of an assertion than a question.
"Yes ... with that beastly dagger ... found it somehow and stabbed herself ... what? ... yes ... quite dead ... I'm sure of it...."
"I'll come round at once. Does Mrs. Carstairs know?"
"Yes ... what? ... yes, a dreadful shock, but she's quite calm ... you'll come ... the sooner the better ... many thanks...."