Lucia went to the telephone and rang up Cadman’s cottage for her motor. She heard his exclamation of ‘My Gawd’, she heard (what she supposed was) Foljambe’s cry of astonishment, and then she rang up Georgie. He and his household were all a-bed and asleep when the telephone began its summons, but presently the persistent tinkle penetrated into his consciousness, and made him dream that he was again watching Lucia whirling down the flood on the kitchen table and ringing an enormous dinner-bell as she swept by the steps. Then he became completely awake and knew it was only the telephone.

‘The tarsome thing!’ he muttered. ‘Who on earth can it be ringing one up at this time? Go on ringing then till you’re tired. I shall go to sleep again.’

In spite of these resolutions, he did nothing of the kind. So ceaseless was the summons that in a minute or two he got out of bed, and putting on his striped dressing gown (blue and yellow) went down to his sitting room.

‘Yes. Who is it? What do you want?’ he said crossly.

There came a little merry laugh, and then a voice, which he had thought was silent for ever, spoke in unmistakable accents.

‘Georgie! Georgino mio!’ it said.

His heart stood still.

‘What? What?’ he cried.

‘Yes, it’s Lucia,’ said the voice. ‘Me’s tum home, Georgie.’

Eighty thousand pounds (less death duties) and Grebe seemed to sweep by him like an avalanche, and fall into the gulf of the things that might have been. But it was not the cold blast of that ruin that filled his eyes with tears.

‘Oh my dear!’ he cried. ‘Is it really you? Lucia, where are you? Where are you talking from?’

‘Mallards. Elizabeth and I –’

‘What, both of you?’ called Georgie. ‘Then – where’s Major Benjy?’

‘Just gone home,’ said Lucia discreetly. ‘And as soon as I’ve had a cup of tea I’m going to Grebe.’

‘But I must come round and see you at once,’ said Georgie. ‘I’ll just put some things on.’

‘Yes, do,’ said Lucia. ‘Presto, presto, Georgie.’