“Cayley asked us to bring a letter along,” explained Bill, when the necessary handshakings and introductions were over. “Here you are.”

“You will tell him, won’t you, how dreadfully sorry I am about⁠—about what has happened? It seems so hopeless to say anything; so hopeless even to believe it. If it is true what we’ve heard.”

Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.

“Yes.⁠ ⁠… And Mr. Ablett hasn’t been found yet?” She shook her head in distress. “It still seems to have happened to somebody else; somebody we didn’t know at all.” Then, with a sudden grave smile which included both of them, “But you must come and have some tea.”

“It’s awfully decent of you,” said Bill awkwardly, “but we⁠—er⁠—”

“You will, won’t you?” she said to Antony.