Mr. Taynton changed his wet clothes and half an hour afterwards he sat down to his simple and excellent supper. Mrs. Otter had provided an admirable vegetable soup for him, and some cold lamb with asparagus and endive salad. A macedoine of strawberries followed and a scoop of cheese. Simple as his fare was, it just suited Mr. Taynton's tastes, and he was indulging himself with the rather rare luxury of a third glass of port when Williams entered again. "Mr. Assheton," he said, and held the door open. Morris came in; he was dressed in evening clothes with a dinner jacket, and gave no salutation to his host. "He's not come yet?" he asked. But his host sprang up. "Dear boy," he said, "what a relief it is to see you. Ever since you left this afternoon I have had you on my mind. You will have a glass of port?" Morris laughed, a curious jangling laugh. "Oh yes, to drink his health," he said. He sat down with a jerk, and leaned his elbows on the table. "He'll want a lot of health to carry him through this, won't he?" he asked. He drank his glass of port like water, and Mr. Taynton instantly filled it up again for him. "Ah, I remember you don't like port," he said. "What else can I offer you?" "Oh, this will do very well," said Morris. "I am so thirsty." "You have dined?" asked his host quietly. "No; I don't think I did. I wasn't hungry." The Cromwellian clock chimed a remnant half hour. "Half-past," said Morris, filling his glass again. "You expect him then, don't you?" "Mills is not always very punctual," said Mr. Taynton. For the next quarter of an hour the two sat with hardly the interchange of a word. From outside came the swift steady hiss of the rain on to the shrubs in the garden, and again the clock chimed. Morris who at first had sat very quiet had begun to fidget and stir in his chair; occasionally when he happened to notice it, he drank off the port with which Mr. Taynton hospitably kept his glass supplied. Sometimes he relit a cigarette only to let it go out again. But when the clock struck he got up. "I wonder what has happened," he said. "Can he have missed his train? What time ought he to have got in?" "He was to have got to Falmer," said Mr. Taynton with a little emphasis on the last word, "at a quarter to seven. He spoke of walking from there." Morris looked at him with a furtive sidelong glance. "Why, I--I might have met him there," he said. "I went up there again after I left you to tell Sir Richard you would call to-morrow." "You saw nothing of him?" asked the lawyer. "No, of course not. Otherwise--There was scarcely a soul on the road; the storm was coming up. But he would go by the downs, would he not?" "The path over the downs doesn't branch off for a quarter of a mile below Falmer station," said Mr. Taynton. The minutes ticked on till ten. Then Morris went to the door. "I shall go round to his rooms to see if he is there," he said. "There is no need," said his host, "I will telephone."