"It is twenty minutes to ten."
"My servant will meet me down there with my kit and get me a seat," the
young man said. "I shall have plenty of time, but I think I had better make
a start."
Katharine came into the back of the box and threw her arms around her
brother's neck. He stooped and kissed her on the lips and forehead.
"Cheer up, Katharine," he begged. "There is nothing to worry about."
"Nothing whatever," Jocelyn Thew echoed. "The most serious contingency that
I can see at present is that you may have to find your way home alone."
"The number of the car is twenty," Beverley said, handing a ticket to his
sister. "I'll send you a wire from Folkestone."
Jocelyn Thew suddenly held out his hand. His eyes were still flashing with
the light of anticipated battle, but there was something else in his face
reminiscent of that momentary softening.
"Mine, I fear," he murmured, "may be but a wireless message, but I hope
that you will get it."
They departed, and Katharine, drawing her chair into the back of the box,
faced many anxious moments of solitude. The two men made their way in
leisurely fashion along the vestibule and turned upstairs towards the
refreshment room. Half-way up, however, Jocelyn Thew laid his hand upon his
companion's arm.
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