"Don't know," said Mr. Crewe; "I'll try to come tonight, but I may be stopped again. Here's Waters now."
The three people in Mrs. Pomfret's victoria were considerably impressed to see the dignified Waters hurrying down the slope from the house towards them. Mr. Crewe continued to tap the trees, but drew a little nearer the carriage.
"If you please, sir," said Waters, "there's a telephone call for you from
Newcastle. It's urgent, sir."
"Who is it?"
"They won't give their names, sir."
"All right," said Mr. Crewe, and with a grin which spoke volumes for the manner in which he was harassed he started towards the house—in no great hurry, however. Reaching the instrument, and saying "Hello" in his usually gracious manner, he was greeted by a voice with a decided Hibernian-American accent.
"Am I talkin' to Mr. Crewe?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Humphrey Crewe?"
"Yes—yes, of course you are. Who are you?"