“When was she here last?” asked Mr. Kentworthy suddenly.
“She came down for a week-end visit to Miss Prince about a month ago, and I think she is coming for Christmas. A capable, intelligent young woman, but I don’t think she could add anything to what I have told you—the more so, that although she was in a war hospital in France, she is not a trained nurse.”
“Well, I’ll be going now. Shall we meet at Grendon station at five o’clock and travel together?”
“By all means.” The two men shook hands cordially.
“I hope you will be able to forget all about this business after to-morrow,” said the police inspector earnestly.
But Dr. Maclean felt very sick at heart when he finally shut the door on his unwelcome visitor, and turned his steps reluctantly toward the dining room where he knew his wife, and probably Jean with her, was likely to be.
As he opened the dining-room door he saw with relief that Mrs. Maclean was alone.
“What signifies the message Jean brought me just now?” she exclaimed. “Why must the marriage be put off, even for one day, Jock? Surely you can postpone going to London till to-morrow afternoon?”
“I’m the bearer of bad news,” he said heavily.
Mrs. Maclean stood up.