"
Collingwood set down his cup, and dropped the newspaper. He was but half
way through his breakfast, but all his appetite had vanished. All that
he was conscious of was that here was trouble and grief for a girl in
whom--it was useless to deny it--he had already begun to take a warm
interest. And suddenly he started from his chair and snatched up a
railway guide. As he turned over its pages, he thought rapidly. The
preparations for his journey to India were almost finished--what was not
done he could do in a few hours. He had no further appointment with Sir
John Standridge until nine o'clock on Thursday morning, when he was to
meet him at the train for Dover and Paris. Monday--Tuesday--Wednesday--he
had three days--ample time to hurry down to Normandale, to do what he
could to help there, and to get back in time to make his own last
arrangements. He glanced at his watch--he had forty minutes in which to
catch an express from King's Cross to Barford. Without further delay he
picked up a suit-case which was already packed and set out for the
station.
He was in Barford soon after two o'clock--in Eldrick's office by
half-past two. Eldrick shook his head at sight of him.
"I can guess what's brought you down, Collingwood," he said. "Good of
you, of course--I don't think they've many friends out there."
"I can scarcely call myself that--yet," answered Collingwood.
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