“I will leave you now to the care of Marshall,” said the younger lady. “Marshall, please bring tea to Mrs. Evershed in this room. We dine at seven, mother.”
Barbara left the room. In the passage outside she stood still for a minute. There was no one by. She slipped her hand into her pocket and took out Dick’s note. It was written in pencil on a torn page of his pocket-book. The few words were quickly read, but Barbara lingered long over the “Darling” with which the note was begun. Suddenly raising it to her lips she kissed the signature; then, tenderly folding it up, she put it back in her pocket.
“I wish I knew what has really happened,” she said to herself. “He knew nothing whatever about this business when I left him this morning. I hope nothing is wrong.”
In her disappointment about her husband not being at home, she forgot all about Mrs. Ives. When she returned to the hall the little woman was still seated on one of the chairs.
“Oh, I am sorry I forgot all about you,” said Barbara. “Did you wish to see me about anything?”
“Well, yes, my lady, I should like to ask you one or two questions.”
“Come in here. This is my husband’s study, and we shall be quite uninterrupted.”
Barbara opened a door to the left of the hall and entered first. Mrs. Ives followed her. Barbara closed the door behind her guest.
“And now what is it?” she asked.
“Well, my lady, I have come here to know if by any chance a little boy has arrived during the last twenty-four hours.”