“Yes, Miss. He’s in his lordship’s car. My Gawd, Miss, what’s gone wrong?”
“Someone has been taken ill.”
“The screaming, Miss. It was something frightful.”
“I know. A fit of hysterics. We’re sorry about the lift. There’s been an accident.”
Better, she thought, to say something about it. The doctor might have said something. She walked quickly through the entrance into the street. The sun had set on London and there was an evening coolness in the air. The sensation of dream receded a little. There was the car, a large grand car with Giggle sitting at the wheel and a woman in a drab hat beside him. They did not notice Roberta and she had to tap on the window, making them jump. Giggle got out and came round to her, touching his cap.
“Giggle,” Roberta began, wishing he had another name, “there’s been an accident.”
He looked at her, maddeningly stolid.
“An accident, Miss?”
“Yes, to Lord Wutherwood. He’s hurt himself. Lady Charles thinks you had better come up.”
“Yes, Miss. Will Miss Tinkerton be needed, Miss?”