And she turned from the fire and went decisively towards the door. She would go down at once and telephone to Seymour’s apartment in St. James’s Palace cancelling her request to his manservant.
She found Murgatroyd waiting in the hall. He looked faintly surprised at seeing her.
“Oh, Murgatroyd!” she said. “It’s getting so late that I’ve decided to put off Sir Seymour till to-morrow. I’m just going to telephone now. So you needn’t sit up any longer.”
“Very well, my lady.”
“Good night.”
“Good night, my lady.”
“I’ll turn out the lights when I go up.”
“Shan’t I—”
“No—you needn’t. Good night.”
She went into the writing-room and shut the door behind her. The thought of the intense relief she would feel directly she had spoken through the telephone and put off Seymour, directly it was settled that he was not to come and see her that night, sent her straight to the telephone. She was eager to communicate with his servant. But she wished now intensely that she had not waited so long. She might possibly be too late. Seymour might have returned home, had her message, and started for Berkeley Square. She took the receiver in her hand and was just going to speak when she heard a cab outside in the Square. She listened. It came up and stopped at her door.