And now Katty was really surprised. "Has he indeed?" she exclaimed. "And without seeing Laura again? I'm rather sorry for _that_!" And as Oliver made no answer, she went on a trifle maliciously: "I suppose you will be going off soon, too?" He hesitated, a very long time it seemed to her, before he answered, "Yes, I suppose I shall. But things go on all right over there as long as one of us is there." Then, with a not over civil abruptness, he left her. Katty stayed most of that cold wintry Saturday afternoon with Laura, and as was her way when she chose to do so, she made herself very pleasant to both the mother and child, and that though little Alice did not like her. A little before four she asked Laura if she might telephone herself to the Bank, and Laura eagerly assented. Explaining that she was really speaking for Mrs. Pavely, Katty had quite a long chat with Mr. Privet. She and the old head clerk had always been good friends, though they met seldom. He could remember her as a beautiful child, and then as the popular, because the always good humoured and pleasant-spoken, belle of Pewsbury. "Yes, I feel very anxious indeed, Mrs. Winslow! I've been wondering whether it wouldn't be a good thing to communicate with the London police, if we don't have any news of Mr. Pavely to-morrow. Could you ascertain for me the exact feelings of Mrs. Pavely?" "I agree with you, Mr. Privet, for after all, accidents _do_ happen! Hold the line a moment. I'll go and inquire." She hurried off to Laura's boudoir. "Mr. Privet suggests that the London police should be communicated with--if we don't have news of Godfrey by to-morrow morning." Laura looked up, startled. "Oh, Katty, don't you think that would make him very angry--if he's all right, I mean?" "Perhaps it would," Katty agreed uncomfortably. She went back to the telephone. "Mrs. Pavely thinks we'd better wait a little longer before saying anything to the police," she called out. And thus it was through Laura, as Katty reminded herself in days to come, that two more precious days were lost. CHAPTER XV "Well, my dear--any more news?" But even as Mrs. Tropenell, looking up from her breakfast-table, asked the question, she knew what the answer would be. It was the following Monday morning. The post had just come in, and at once, knowing that the postman called first at The Chase, Oliver had hurried off to the telephone. He had been there a long time--perhaps as long as ten minutes--and when he came back into the dining-room his mother was struck afresh by the look of almost intolerable strain and anxiety in his face and eyes. They had spent a great part of Sunday with Laura, and during that long, trying day Mrs. Tropenell had felt very much more concerned about her son than she did about Godfrey Pavely.