Challis was inhospitable enough not to press him to come in and dine, and was so annoyed with his folly that he might not have done so even if less desirous of a quiet evening with the subject of all this alarm, who would no doubt appear in due course, though the best part of an hour late. He felt secure that nobody could be connected hypothetically with one mishap, and actually with another, on the same evening! Impossible! Mr. Eldridge seemed not so confident; for he said at parting, "Good-bye, Master Titus! Glad Marianne wasn't killed by this train!" and drove off to his own domicile.
The garden-gate was not locked; this was owing to Challis's return. For he always insisted that the front-door should be approachable, boys or no, when he was in residence. He got in with his latch-key, and going straight to the top of the kitchen-stairs, called out to Harmood, whose response came duly.
"Tell Mrs. Steptoe she must keep dinner back. Your mistress will be late."
"I beg your pardon, sir!"
"Tell—Mrs.—Steptoe she must keep—dinner—back!" Challis endorsed his mandate with forcible word-isolations, and gave fuller particulars of his reasons why. Harmood responded rather tartly:
"I beg your pardon, sir! Did you say Mrs. Challis?"
"Yes!"
"Mrs. Challis is come in, sir. Been in half-an-hour!"
"God bless me!" exclaimed Challis; and nearly added, "Why didn't you tell me?"—which would have been absurd. But he was saved from this by a voice from the floor above; Marianne's, unmistakably.
"Oh dear!—What are you shouting down in the kitchen for? Why can't you come up?"