“No.”
“No. When we were boys we were good friends. It seems a queer thing for him to go away like this.”
“Yes,” said Charlot, “I expect it does.” He went and sat beside her.
“Well,” said Henry, “what happens now?”
“Examination of witnesses continues, I trust,” said Frid. “Who do you say he’ll ask for next? I’m longing for my turn.”
“Frid, my dear,” said her father, “don’t.”
“Don’t what, Daddy?”
“Don’t be so quite so whatever it is you are being. We’re all rather tired. Immy, ought I to ask if I may see Violet?”
“I don’t think so, darling. Dr. Kantripp says she seems to be much quieter and more sensible. No doubt she’ll—”
The drawing-room door opened slowly. The young constable scrambled to his feet, followed, one after another, by the Lampreys. Framed in the doorway, supported on one hand by a uniformed nurse and on the other by her maid, stood the Dowager Lady Wutherwood.