"You'd better take the wire to show her," said Sangster. They went out into the street together.
"It's too early to go to the Savoy," said Jimmy. He was walking very fast now. There was a sort of eagerness in his face; perhaps he hoped that his brother's presence, as Sangster had said, would make all the difference. "We'll hop along to the hotel and fetch her."
He walked Sangster off his feet. He pushed open the swing door of the hotel with an impatient hand.
"Mrs. Challoner—my wife—is she in?"
The hall porter looked at Jimmy curiously. He thought he and Christine were the strangest married couple he had ever come across. There was a little twinkle in his solemn eyes as he answered:
"Mrs. Challoner went very early, sir. She asked me to telephone to you at the Savoy at one o'clock and say she was sorry she would not be able to meet you——"
"Not be able to meet me?" Jimmy's voice and face were blank.
"That is what Mrs. Challoner said, sir. She went out with a gentleman,—a Mr. Kettering, she told me to say, sir."
Sangster turned sharply away. For the first time for many weeks he was utterly and profoundly sorry for Jimmy Challoner, as he stood staring at the hall porter with blank eyes. The eager flush had faded from his face; he looked, all at once, ill and old; he pulled himself together with an effort.
"Oh! All right—thanks—thanks very much."