As my rooms are in Hans Crescent I think I didn’t take more than five minutes in getting to the Scoville house in Moreton Gardens, South Kensington. As I got out of my taxi I saw the drawing-room curtains thrust suddenly into place and before I got to the top step Flora, Catherine’s scatter-brain maid, opened the door for me. She was white and trembling and obviously on the point of collapse. I think I may say I’ve never approved of a display of emotion in any one but in the servant classes such lack of reserve is unpardonable. Even then I fancy I was sharper than necessary when I said, “Come, my girl, pull yourself together and tell your mistress I’m here.”
“Oh, sir, it’s dreadful, oh, it’s dreadful!” she was sobbing brokenly, but she went up stairs quite rapidly. I always think firmness
