“For you, sir,” he said, handing it to Collins.
He read it while the others watched. Not a muscle moved.
“No answer, thanks,” he said to the policeman, and put it in his pocket.
“Anything important?” said Boyce, officiously.
“Oh, no,” said the other.
He turned into the library, and looked round.
“What the devil is he doing with telegrams sent to this house?” said Boyce, irritably.
The remark called for no answer.
The telegram was from Miss Watson to say she was coming to Town that afternoon, and would he meet her.
It did not ask for an answer, which pleased him somehow. He strolled out of the room, and said: