When she came round to me--my back had
been half turned to her all the time--I was astonished to see her
looking rather shaken. She handed me the paper without a word.
The message ran:
"Thanks yesterday's telegram. Just got home. Queen Victoria
Hospital, Belton Square. Must have talk with you before I
communicate with my mother. Rely absolutely on your discretion.
Come to-morrow. Forgive inconvenience caused, but most urgent."
"It's from Boyce," I said, looking up at her.
"Naturally."
"I suppose he omitted the signature to avoid any possible leakage
through the post-office here."
She nodded. "What do you think is the matter?"
"God knows," said I. "Evidently something very serious."
She went back to the piano seat. "It's odd that I should have
taken down that message," she said, after a while.
"I'll sack Marigold for putting you in that abominable position,"
I exclaimed wrathfully.
"No, you won't, dear. What does it signify? I'm not a silly child.
I suppose you're going to-morrow?"
"Of course--for Mrs. Boyce's sake alone I should have no
alternative."
She turned round and began to take up the thread of the Nocturne
from the point where she had left off; but she only played half a
page and quitted the piano abruptly.
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