cided to make up to you in the next few days for all those lonely years—"
But the morning had been too much for Minot. Worried, distressed, he lost for the moment his usual smiling urbanity.
"Oh, go to the devil!" he said, and walked away.
Lunch time came—two o'clock. At half past two, out of London, Jephson spoke. Said his cable:
"Know nothing of G. R. except that she's been married frequently. Do best you can."
And what help was this, pray? Disgustedly Minot read the cable again. Four o'clock was coming on apace, and with every tick of the clock his feeling of helplessness grew. He mentally berated Thacker and Jephson. They left him alone to grapple with wild problems, offering no help and asking miracles. Confound them both!
Three o'clock came. What—what was he to say? Lord Harrowby, interrogated, was merely useless and frantic He couldn't raise a shilling.
