‘Never mind that now,’ said Harry, who, like many gentle people, easily took command of a situation when he was roused. ‘You won’t see Juan’s aunt, then, Sophia?’

‘No, I won’t. I’m damned if I will. I’m going to telephone Uncle Preston this very night and tell him all about it and ask his advice …’

‘Flopping on the blasted relations now!’

‘Who else can I flop on? There’s no one to help me or to be sensible …’

‘Sneaking and sucking up!’

‘I’m not … I’m not … but I must do something …’

‘Letting us down …’

‘Harry! It’s for your own good.’

‘You’re a filthy little traitor.’

‘Oh, how dare you say that! How can you! I’m going to telephone Uncle Preston now, this minute, and tell him …’

She got up clumsily, sobbing and stumbling, and went to the telephone. Harry let her pick it up, then seized it and they struggled for a second, Harry trying to tear her hands away. Francis, shocked, started forward, but even as he did so Harry wrenched the telephone away, it fell on the floor, and the mouthpiece smashed.

‘Oh – Oh!’ cried Sophia.

She turned, darted to the door, flung it open and ran out into the street.

The door slowly swung to behind her, and closed with a click.

‘She’ll get over it,’ muttered Harry, picking up the telephone. Francis said nothing. He had taken little part in the row, beyond supporting Harry, but his legs trembled and he felt sick.

The telephone, restored to the shelf, at once began to ring. Harry glanced at the clock; it said nine.

Five minutes later the cottage was empty.

CHAPTER XXII

A week later Aunt Maxine was superintending the preparations for an evening of bridge at her flat. The preparations consisted of a lot of whisky, gin, sherry and port and a few olives; the olives were, so to speak, an excuse. Aunt Maxine was absorbed in her activities, bustling about in a red velvet evening dress which was too tight, and bullying her daily maid, who was being paid extra to stay on for the evening and give tone to the festivities. Like the olives, she would not be noticed much, but she would supply an atmosphere.

The telephone bell rang.

‘Blast, who’s that; I’ll take it, Kate. Hope it isn’t someone saying they can’t come.’

‘Hullo. Is that Maxine? It is I, Preston. Preston. Yes. I thought it would be as well to telephone you and let you know about the children.’

‘Up to something again, are they? Well, you’re only young once. I’ve been expecting it for some time. Harry got someone into trouble?’

‘Bless my soul, I hope not. I hope not. If that were so, on top of everything else…. No. No. It is only that they have decided, I understand, not to live together any more.’

‘I’m not surprised. Never did think it would work. Did you?’

‘No … no. I cannot say that I did. Poor Hartley’s children. No. One did not expect that they would make a success of sharing a home. They are all too much like their unfortunate father. But the extraordinary thing is, Maxine, that I only found out this by accident …’