"To-morrow," he said lightly. "I would have given them to you to-night, Sybil. Silly child ever to sign things."
Sybil's lip trembled; the snare was about her feet.
A tall man pushed his way through the crowd, looking anxiously at the tables. He was covered with the dust of a long journey; he came quickly, staring at each group.
"Oliver!" Sybil sprang to her feet, rushed across to him. "Oh, Captain Knox, why did you not come yesterday?"
"I only got back to York this morning. I motored to London, and it took me hours to find your mother. Who is that—in the shadow?"
"Captain Gore Helmsley." Sybil's voice grew shrill.
"And Sybil is here with me," said Esmé, coming out of another shadow. "Take her for a walk before we start. I want to talk to my friend here."
"Sybil—why did you write for me like that?"
"I wanted you to save me, and you never came," she faltered.
"But I am not too late. My God, not that!"