"What are we waiting here in this ugly house for?" he said. "Can't we go to Papa and have our chocolate?"
Léonie stooped down and said something to soothe him, and after a while he grew drowsy again, and his little head dropped on to her shoulder. And so they sat for what seemed a terribly long time. It was more than half an hour, till at last Mr. Marton appeared again.
"I've only just got out that luggage," he said. "What a detestable plan that registering it is! And now I've got it I don't know what to do with it, for——"
"Has he not come?" interrupted his wife.
Mr. Marton glanced at Gladys. She did not seem to be listening.
"Not a bit of him," he replied. "I've hunted right through the station half a dozen times, and it's an hour and a half since the train was due. It cannot be some little delay. It's a pretty kettle of fish and no mistake."
Mrs. Marton's blue eyes gazed up in her husband's face with a look of the deepest anxiety.
"What is to be done?" she said.