Outside the light was failing.  It was close on six o’clock, and summer time had not yet begun.

Suddenly the Squire raised his head.

‘That, I think, was the telephone?’

Elizabeth rose—­

‘May I go?  It is probably Captain Dell.’

She hurried away to her office-room, where the call-bell was insistently ringing.

‘Yes—­who is that?’

‘A telegram please—­for Mr. Mannering—­from London.’

‘Wait a moment—­I will tell Mr. Mannering.’

But as she turned to go back to the library she saw the Squire had followed her, and was standing at the door.  He came forward at once and took up the receiver.

Elizabeth watched him with a fast beating pulse.  He heard the message, took out a pencil and wrote it down on a piece of paper lying near, put up the receiver, and turned to her.

’It is from Aubrey.  “Desmond is severely wounded.  Please come at once.  Permission will be given to you and Pamela to go to France.  I hope to go with you.  Will meet you King’s Cross 8.40.  Aubrey."’

He steadied himself a moment by a hand on Elizabeth’s table.  She went up to him, and took his other hand, which closed an instant on hers.

‘I thought so,’ he said, under his breath.  ’I knew it....  Telephone, please, to Fallerton for the taxi, while I go and speak to Forest.’

She gave the order and then hastened into the hall where Mrs. Gaddesden was busy trimming a hat.  The Squire’s eldest daughter sprang up at sight of Elizabeth.

‘Oh, what is it?  I know it’s bad news—­it’s Desmond!’

Elizabeth repeated the telegram.  ’Your father is going off at once.  I have telephoned for the car.’

‘Oh, but I must go too—­of course I must!’ said Alice, weeping.  ‘Where is my maid?’

Elizabeth pointed out gently that, in speaking of the permits for France, Major Mannering had only referred to the Squire and Pamela.

’Oh, but he must have meant me too—­of course he must!  Where is my maid?’ She rang the upstairs’ bell violently.  ’Oh, father, how awful!’—­the Squire had just entered the hall—­’of course I’m going with you?’

‘What does she mean?’ said the Squire impatiently to Elizabeth.  ‘Tell her I’m going alone.’

‘But, father, you must take me!’ cried Alice, running forward with clasped hands.  ‘He is my brother!  I must see him again!’

‘He asks for Pamela,’ said the Squire grimly.  ’Aubrey shall wire to you.  You’d better stay here—­if Miss Bremerton will look after you.’

’I don’t want to be looked after—­I want to look after Desmond and you,’ said Alice, with sobs.

The Squire’s eyes travelled over the soft elaboration of her dress and hair—­all her perfumed and fashionable person.

‘It is impossible,’ he said sharply.  Then turning to Elizabeth he gave her a few directions about his letters.  ’I shall get money in town.  I will wire directly we arrive.’