Elizabeth took the empty glass and set it down.
“Molly, my dear, you must listen. No—I’m thinking of what’s best for every one. You don’t want any talk. If you go to David’s house at this hour—well, you can see for yourself. No—listen, my dear. If I ring David up, and ask him to come here at once—at once—to see me, don’t you see how much better that will be?”
Mary’s colour came and went. She stood irresolute.
“Very well,” she said at last. “If he’ll come. If he won’t, then I’ll go to him, and I don’t care what you say, Elizabeth—and you must be quick—quick.”
They went downstairs in silence. Mr. Mottisfont’s study was in darkness, and Elizabeth brought in the lamp from the hall, holding it very steadily. Then she sat down at the great littered desk and rang up the exchange. She gave the number and they waited. After what seemed like a very long time, Elizabeth heard David’s voice.
“Hullo!”
“It is I—Elizabeth,” said Elizabeth Chantrey.
“What is it?”
“Can you come here at once? I want to see you at once. Yes, it is very important—important and urgent.”
Mary was in an agony of impatience. “What does he say? Will he come? Will he come at once?”