As he hoped and anticipated, she produced the message itself from her handbag.
"This is what it says," she said, and read: "'Mrs. Forbes ill and unable communicate by telephone. Come at once. Manager Royal Devonshire Hotel.'" Then she added, with a suspicious break in her voice: "That sounds serious enough, in all conscience."
"Is it addressed to you personally?" said Theydon, racking his wits for some means of lessening the girl's foreboding without tickling the ears of the other people in the compartment by suggesting that she might have been brought from her home by some cruel ruse of her father's enemies.
"Yes."
"But isn't that somewhat singular in itself? One would imagine that such a significant message would have been sent to your father."
"Why?"
"Well, men are better fitted to withstand these shocks, for one thing. It was heartless, or, to say the least, thoughtless, to give you such news with the brutal frankness of a telegram."
"I cannot understand it at all. Mother wrote this morning telling me that she was going to Beachy Head this afternoon with a picnic party."
"I am convinced," said Theydon gravely, "that some one has blundered. It may be the act of some stupid foreigner. I shall not be content now, Miss Forbes, until I have gone with you to the Royal Devonshire, and learnt what the extent of the trouble really is. Then, if Mrs. Forbes needs your presence, perhaps you will allow me to telephone to your father, as he will be greatly disturbed when he returns home and learns the cause of your journey."
"But I can't think of allowing you two to break up your afternoon on my account. I'm sure, when we reach Eastbourne, I shall see an array of golf clubs among your luggage."