“All right,” said the Major, helping her to alight. “I tell you what. We’ll go into Harry Prankhurst’s sitting-room. He’s away for the week-end, anyway!”
He took Mary Trevert into a room off the hall and switched on the electric light. Then for the first time he saw how pale she looked.
“My dear,” he said, “I know what an awful shock you’ve had....”
“You’ve heard about it?”
“I saw it in the Sunday papers. I was going to write to you.”
“Euan,” the girl began in a nervous, hasty way, “I have to go to Holland at once. There is not a moment to lose. I want you to help me get my passport viséed.”
“But, my dear girl,” exclaimed the Major, aghast, “you can’t go to Holland like this alone. Does your mother know about it?”
The girl shook her head.
“It’s no good trying to stop me, Euan,” she declared. “I mean to go, anyway. As a matter of fact, Mother doesn’t know. I merely left word that I had gone to the Continent for a few days. Nobody knows about Holland except you. And if you won’t help me I suppose I shall have to go to Harry Tadworth at the Foreign Office. I came to you first because he’s always so stuffy ...”
Euan MacTavish pushed the girl into a chair and gave her a cigarette. He lit it for her and took one himself. His pipe had vanished into his pocket.