Now she was back in the flat and didn’t know where to go. Perhaps Patch and Mike were still in the dining-room. She stood in the hall and listened. There was a murmur of voices in the drawing-room. Baskett came along the passage carrying a tray with a decanter and glasses. Extraordinary sight, thought Roberta. Can they possibly have settled down for another glass of sherry? Baskett dated from the New Zealand days; he was an old friend of Roberta’s and she did not feel shy with him.
“Baskett, who’s in the drawing-room?”
“The family, Miss, with the exception of his lordship. His lordship is with the doctor, Miss.”
“And Lady Wutherwood?”
“I understand her ladyship is lying down, Miss.”
Baskett lingered for a moment, looking down in a kindly and human manner at Roberta.
“The family will be glad to have you with them, Miss Robin,” he said.
“Have you heard how — how he is?”
“He seemed to be unconscious, Miss, when we carried him into his lordship’s dressing-room — but alive. I haven’t heard any further report.”
“No. Baskett.”