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He hustled them on to the platform, and as Grace, bewildered and disturbed, entered the carriage, he detained Roger, ostensibly for the purpose of handing him the tickets.

“I say, have you heard the news—about Lady Rawson?”

“I saw a placard a moment ago, and I can’t credit it.”

“It’s true enough, I’m afraid. Awful, isn’t it? So mysterious too, and within a mile of the church where you were married—that makes it all the more horrible. Here’s a paper; don’t let Grace see it though; keep the whole thing from her as long as you can. It will upset——”

“Going on, sir? Step in, please.”

At the guard’s admonition Roger sprang in, the door was slammed, the whistle sounded, and as the train glided away George Winston ran alongside, waving his hat and shouting with an excellent assumption of gaiety.

“Good-bye, Grace—good-bye, old man. Good luck to you both.”

Roger leaned out of the window and nodded as if in responsive farewell, an action that gave him a few seconds in which to regain his self-possession and marshal his distracted thoughts.