Well, we shan’t do that unless Mr. Winter comes at once and we make up our minds what to do.
Etchingham.
Ring up the Committee Rooms, Boyce, and ask if anything’s been heard of him.
Boyce.
All right. I’ll do that.
Swalecliffe.
I was never so taken aback as when Boyce showed me the telephone message from London.
Etchingham.
When do the London papers get here, Mr. Ford?
James Ford.