Then—it came over her—like a flash she remembered Major Hunter’s mania for old furniture. They had been discussing it at the Carlton the last time they lunched together. And he had said something to Jimmie about some—Jacobean or Queen Anne—Geraldine knew nothing about these things—something or other. Could he possibly be bringing it round? But of course. He must be. And that explained the remark about the servants. He wanted them to help getting it into the house. What a bore! Geraldine did hope it would tone in. And really, she must say she thought Major Hunter was taking a good deal for granted to produce a thing that size at that hour of the day without a word of warning. They hardly knew him well enough for that. Why make such a mystery of it too? Geraldine hated mysteries. But she had heard his head was rather troublesome at times ever since the Somme affair. Perhaps this was one of his bad days. In that case, a pity Jimmie was not back. She rang. Mullins answered. “Oh, Mullins, I’m expecting Major Hunter in a few moments. He’s bringing something rather heavy. He may want you to help with it. And Cook better be ready, too.” Geraldine’s manner was slightly lofty with her servants. She enjoyed carrying things off with a high hand. All the same Mullins did look surprised. She seemed to hover for a moment before she went out. It annoyed Geraldine greatly. What was there to be surprised at? What could have been simpler? she thought, sitting down to her batch of letters, and the fire, and the clock and her pen began to whisper together. There was the taxi—making an enormous noise at the door. She thought she heard the driver’s voice, too, arguing. It took her a long moment to clasp her writing case and to get up out of the low chair. The bell rang. She went straight to the dining-room door—— And there was Major Hunter in his riding kit, coming quickly towards her, and behind him, through the open door at the bottom of the steps she saw something big, something grey. It was an ambulance. “There’s been an accident,” cried Geraldine sharply. “Mrs. Howard.” Major Hunter ran forward. He put out his icy cold hand and wrung hers. “You’ll be brave, won’t you?” he said, he pleaded. But of course she would be brave. “Is it serious?” Major Hunter nodded gravely. He said the one word “Yes.” “Very serious?” Now he raised his head. He looked her full in the eyes. She’d never realized until that moment that he was extraordinarily handsome though in a melodrama kind of way. “It’s as bad as it can be, Mrs. Howard,” said Major Hunter simply. “But—go in there,” he said hastily and he almost pushed her into her own dining-room. “We must bring him in—where can we——” “Can he be taken upstairs?” asked Geraldine. “Yes, yes of course.” Major Hunter looked at her so strangely—so painfully.