But, before he could do so, he got an evening paper and read a brief notice that John Derringham had met with a severe accident--of what exact nature the press association had not yet learned--and was lying in a critical condition at Wendover Park, the country seat of the "beautiful American society leader, Mrs.Vincent Cricklander," with whose name rumor had already connected the Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in the most interesting manner, the paragraph added.
So Fate had stepped in and saved his pure night flower, after all! But at what sort of price?
And Cheiron stared into space with troubled eyes.
He passed hours of anxious thought.

He never did anything in a hurry, and felt that now he must especially consider what would be his wisest course.
And then, this next morning, Halcyone's letter had come.
It was very simple.

It told of Mrs.Anderton's arrival at La Sarthe Chase and of her own return to London with her--and then the real pith of it had crept out.

Had he heard any news of Mr.Derringham?
Because she had seen his writing upon a letter Mrs.Porrit was readdressing at the orchard house and, observing it was from London, she presumed he was there, and she hoped she should see him.
The Professor stopped abruptly here.
"What a woman it is, after all!" he exclaimed.

He himself had never noticed the postmark on John Derringham's envelope! Then he folded Halcyone's pitiful little communication absently, and thought deeply.
Two things were evident.