“Dinner almost immediately, James.”
During the solitary meal he was preoccupied, but ate more than usual, in the butler’s judgment. Finding his own company distasteful, he discussed the November Handicap with the butler, and ultimately sent for an evening paper.
Opening it, the first words that caught his eye were, “Murder in the West End.” He read the paragraph, the record of some tragic orgy, and turned to the butler.
“A lot of these beastly crimes have occurred recently, Thompson.”
“Yes, Sir Charles. There’s bin three since the beginning of the month.”
After a pause. “Did you hear that her ladyship had gone to Richmond?”
“Yes, Sir Charles.”
“Do you know how she went?”
“No, Sir Charles.”