The list of names did not contain Barbara's. Eric telephoned to her as soon as he had received the letter, though he knew that she would be in bed and that a tiresome footman would say: "I don't think her ladyship's been called yet, sir. Perhaps you would ring up later." With patience he got into communication with her and read out the first pages of the letter. When she had thanked him, he asked with trepidation whether she had heard from Jack. An hour seemed to pass while she rang for her letters and looked at the postmarks.
"There's nothing from Switzerland," she announced at length.
Eric's heart leapt with relief. Agnes had written; surely Jack could have written, too, had he wished? In the ensuing silence Barbara's voice, suddenly toneless, came back to him.
"I'm sorry, Babs, for your sake."
"Thank you, darling."
"I'll make a point of seeing Agnes as soon as she gets back to England," he went on.
"Thank you, darling."
"And, of course, I'll let you know anything there is to know. Very likely you'll get a letter before I see her."
"Perhaps I shall." Her voice trembled; and Eric, ceasing to weight justice or consider provocation, wished that he had Jack Waring's throat between his hands. "Well, I mustn't keep you from your work. Thank you for telling me, Eric."
"Good-bye, Babs. I suppose it wouldn't amuse you to lunch or dine with me anywhere?"