“I am Miss Gascoyne.”

There was a silence. The man in the dog-cart was evidently somewhat taken aback. He was saved from further awkwardness by the character of the woman he had to deal with.

“I am afraid something has happened. What is it?”

“Your brother has had an accident.”

“Is he hurt?”

“I am afraid so.”

The answer was inconclusive, and it was obviously intended that it should be.

“Seriously?”

“I am afraid so.”

The answer was still lacking in finality, and Miss Gascoyne guessed the worst.