«Oh, yes — I'll take it easy, thanks,» said Lord Peter. He rolled his sleeve down neatly. «I'm much obliged to you. If I have any further trouble I'll look in again.»
«Do — do —» said Sir Julian. cheerfully. «Only make an appointment another time. I'm rather rushed these days. I hope your mother is quite well. I saw her the other day at that Battersea inquest. You should have been there. It would have interested you.»
XII
The vile, raw fog tore your throat and ravaged your eyes. You could not see your feet. You stumbled in your walk over poor men's graves.
The feel of Parker's old trench-coat beneath your fingers was comforting. You had felt it in worse places. You clung on now for fear you should get separated. The dim people moving in front of you were like Brocken spectres.
«Take care, gentlemen,» said a toneless voice out of the yellow darkness, «there's an open grave just hereabouts.»
You bore away to the right, and floundered in a mass of freshly turned clay.
«Hold up, old man,» said Parker.
«Where is Lady Levy?»
«In the mortuary; the Duchess of Denver is with her. Your mother is wonderful, Peter.»