“He’s not likely to survive a second stroke,” said Vera calmly. “I’m sorry for the poor old thing, but really it’s time he went. And I want Peter to come into the estate before he’s quite worn out and embittered. It’s high time he was his own master—it’ll pull him together again—he’s been all to pieces lately.”
“And it’ll quite settle the Stella Mount business,” she added secretly to herself.
The next hour passed, and Weller came up to ask if she should bring in the dinner.
“What can have happened to Peter!” exclaimed Vera.
“I daresay he met the messenger on his way back, and went straight to Conster.”
“Then it was very inconsiderate of him not to send me word. Yes, Weller, bring the dinner up here. You’ll have it with me, won’t you, Mother, as Peter isn’t in?”
They were eating their fruit when Weller came in with another “Urgent.” It was from Doris, and ran—
“Hasn’t Peter come back yet? Do send him over at once whenever he does. Father is dying. Dr. Mount does not expect him to last the night. We have wired to Jenny and Mary and even Gervase. Do send Peter along. He ought to be here.”
“How exactly like Doris to write as if we were deliberately keeping Peter away! I don’t know where he is. Doris might realise that I’m the last person who’d know.”
Her hands were trembling, and she whimpered a little as she crushed up the note and flung it across the room into the fireplace.