Still, she could hardly refuse such a request, and common sense told her that a pleasant chat with a man who could talk as well as Theydon offered a better means of whiling away two and a half hours than brooding over the nature and extent of her mother's unknown illness.
"There's plenty of room," she said.
Without further ado, Theydon entered and Handyside followed. The compartment held six seats, while a door led to a side corridor running the length of the coach. The two remaining occupants were worthy Britons who neither invited nor received any special attention.
Mr. Handyside was introduced, and promptly said the right thing.
"I guess I knew what I was doing when I forced Mr. Theydon to take me out of London today," he said, with a smile which left the girl in no doubt as to the nature of the implied compliment.
"But it is hardly an hour since I spoke to my father at Mr. Theydon's flat," she said. "Were you there, too, Mr. Handyside?"
"No, in the next block. That was the nearest I got to Mr. Theydon before we met and took a cab for Victoria."
Theydon was pleased with his ally. No diplomat, trained during long years to conceal material facts, could have headed the girl off more deftly, while every word was literally true.
"Ah!" she said, glancing meaningly at Theydon, "we are all the sport of fortune, then. How strange! Of course, Mr. Theydon, you don't know why I am here. I have had a telegram from my mother, or one sent in her name. She has been taken ill suddenly."
"That is bad news," was the sympathetic answer. "If the message has not come direct from Mrs. Forbes may it not be rather exaggerated in tone? Some people can never write telegrams. The knowledge that each word costs a halfpenny weighs on them like a nightmare."