“Is Lady Remington there?” asked Raife, eagerly. “Tell her I want to speak to her.”
“She’s—oh, it’s you, Master Raife, sir! She’s—I’m sorry, sir, her ladyship’s not well, sir.”
“Not well? What’s the matter?” asked the young fellow, speaking eagerly into the mouthpiece.
“Oh, sir, I—I—I can’t tell you over the ’phone,” replied the old servant. “Her ladyship has forbidden us to say anything at all.”
“But, Edgson, surely I may know!” cried the young man, frantically.
“We thought you were on your way home, sir,” the butler replied. “Can’t you come, Master Raife?”
“Yes, of course, I’m leaving now—at once. But I’m anxious to know what has happened.”
“Come home, sir, and her ladyship will tell you.”
“Go at once and say that I am at the ’phone,” Raife ordered, angrily.
“I’m very sorry, sir, but I can’t,” was the response. “I have very strict orders from her ladyship, but I’m sorry to have to disobey you, sir.”