"I am Mrs. Lonsdale," she said in a smooth, low voice. Her voice was perfectly smooth because her will had deserted her again. Only her brain worked, clearly, independently.
"Ah, Mrs. Lonsdale; this is Mr. Burke speaking, Mr. Franklin Burke, of the Cosmos Club. I am making an effort to get into touch with friends of Mr. Richard Ayling, and I am told by a man named Chedsey, who I believe was at one time in your employ, that Mr. Ayling is an old friend of your family."
"Yes," she said, "we are old friends."
"You knew, then, I presume, that Mr. Ayling had gone away—to the country some days ago."
"Yes," she said, again, "I knew that he had not been well and that he had gone out of town for a week.... Is there—anything?" Her heart was beating very loudly in her ears.
"I dislike to be the bearer of bad news, Mrs. Lonsdale, but I must tell you that we have received a telephone message here at the club that—I hope it will not shock you too much—that Mr. Ayling died sometime to-day, at an inn where he was staying, at Homebury St. Mary, I believe."
His voice was very gentle and concerned. She hesitated perceptibly, and his voice came over the wire, "I'm sorry—very sorry, to tell you in this way—"
She heard herself speaking: "Naturally, I—it's something of a shock...."
"Indeed I understand."
Again she caught the sound of her own voice, as if it belonged to some one else, "I suppose it was his heart."