Their natural desire was to depart, since they could not be of any service to the stricken household; but no facilities existed on Sunday.  They walked about in little groups.  One or two, desiring to smoke but feeling that to do so would appear callous, descended into the seclusion of the garden.  Then Ernest Travers joined them.  He was important, but could only tell them that May had disobeyed his father-in-law, slept in the Grey Room, and died there.  He gave them details and declared that in his opinion it would be unseemly to attempt to leave until the following day.

“Sir Walter would feel it,” he said.  “He is bearing up well.  He will lunch with us.  My wife tells me that Mary, Mrs. May, is very sadly.  That is natural—­an awful blow.  I find myself incapable of grasping it.  To think of so much boyish good spirits and such vitality extinguished in this way.”

“Can we do anything on earth for them?” asked Millicent Fayre-Michell.

“Nothing—­nothing.  If I may advise, I think we had all better go to church.  By so doing we get out of the way for a time and please dear Sir Walter.  I shall certainly go.”

They greeted the suggestion—­indeed, clutched at it.  Their bewildered minds welcomed action.  They were hushed and perturbed.  Death, crashing in upon them thus, left them more than uncomfortable.  Some, at the bottom of their souls, felt almost indignant that an event so horrible should have disturbed the level tenor of their lives.  They shared the most profound sympathy for the sufferers as well as for themselves.  Some discovered that their own physical bodies were upset, too, and felt surprised at the depth of their emotions.

“It isn’t as if it were natural,” Felix Fayre-Michell persisted.  “Don’t imagine that for a moment.”

“It’s too creepy—­I can’t believe it,” declared his niece.  She was incapable of suffering much for anybody, and her excitement had a flavour not wholly bitter.  She saw herself describing these events at other house parties.  It would be unfair to say that she was enjoying herself; still she knew nobody at Chadlands very well, it was her first visit, and adventures are, after all, adventures.  Her uncle discussed the psychic significance of the tragedy, and gave instances of similar events.  One or two listened to him for lack of anything better to do.  There was a general sensation of blankness.  They were all thrown.  Life had let them down.  Under the circumstances, to most of them it seemed an excellent idea to go to church.  Vane joined them presently.  He was able to give them many details and excite their interest.  They crowded round him, and he spoke nakedly.  Death was nothing to him—­he had seen so much.  They heard the motor return with Dr. Mannering.

“We’re so out of it,” said Mr. Miles Handford, a stout man from Yorkshire—­a wealthy landowner and sportsman.

He was unaccustomed to be out of anything in his environment, and he showed actual irritation.