“Let me have a drink,” he said. “I’m done up.”
“Tell us all about it,” said Sinclair, pouring out a drink and handing it to him.
“Where’s Mabel?” said Sanders to Allery.
“She went to lie down, but said she wanted to be called directly there was any news. I sent for her when I heard the car.”
Mabel came in looking woefully drawn and pale. She was in négligé costume.
“Well?” she said in a dull voice.
“It’s all over. I chased the car, but we had no chance of catching it. By a sheer fluke at the little village of Paxton, we saw men standing about which seemed strange at this hour, and happened to ask whether anything had happened. It appeared that a car had smashed up at the bend. A bad smash.”
“And Mr. Collins?” said the girl.
“I should have thought your first thought would have been for your brother,” said Sanders.
“Let’s have the news,” said Allery, crossly.