We were just about to enter the dining room when the telephone rang.
Dorincourt bounded across the broad hallway and snatched up the receiver. “Yes?” There was tension in that one word as well as in every line of his body.
St John appeared concerned as well, and when Dorincourt’s expression tightened, he asked, “Is it Andrew?”
Dorincourt shook his head. “It’s for your uncle.”
“Me?” No one knew I was here. Concerned, I took the phone from Dorincourt. “Trevalyan.”
“I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Mr James.”
“Wilson! What is it?”
“I received a phone call from a person who stated he works with you, sir.”
“Tanner?”
Father tugged his lower lip and Mother arched an eyebrow at the sharpness in my tone, and I grimaced apologetically.
“No, he gave his name as Rogers. He was quite put
