And then Muriel hung up the receiver, and rang for the footman, on whose appearance she ordered him to tell her maid to bring a cloak immediately, and stated also that she would require a taxi in ten minutes. Then, as one who has put great things in train, she sank back in a chair with a sigh of relief and content.
II
General Carden was in his smoking-room when the opening of the door by Goring heralded the entrance of Tommy Lancing and a stout, elderly priest.
Somewhat perplexed, General Carden put down the book he had been reading, and rose from his chair to greet them. True, Tommy occasionally favoured him with his presence at this hour, but why should he drag along with him a man whom he had only once met, and that man, moreover, a priest? He appeared, too, somewhat embarrassed. It was the elder man who was at his ease.
“We came to see you, General,” said Tommy, [Pg 284]shaking hands and introducing Father O’Sullivan, “because we thought—that is, Muriel—well, something unusual has happened.” Neither speech nor introduction was made after Tommy’s customary suave fashion.
“Ah!” said General Carden, eyeing them both keenly, while his heart gave a little anxious throb. Unusual news can easily portend bad news. Also Tommy’s manner was a trifle disconcerting.
“It is,” said Tommy, “about your son.”
“Ah!” said General Carden again, this time with a quick intake of his breath. He put his hand up to the mantelpiece. The floor seemed not quite so solid as he would desire it to be.
“He,” blurted out Tommy quickly, “was—was not guilty. Father O’Sullivan will tell you.”
Thus in the simplest, most commonplace of language can momentous announcements be made. It would seem as though there should be a grander language, a finer flow of words, for these statements and yet in such bald fashion are they invariably announced.