Arnoldsaidawordofsympathytohisfriend，whentheywerealone。
“Iamsorryforthis，Geoffrey。IhopeandtrustyouwillgettoLondonintime。“
Hestopped。TherewassomethinginGeoffrey’sface——astrangemixtureofdoubtandbewilderment，ofannoyanceandhesitation——whichwasnottobeaccountedforasthenaturalresultofthenewsthathehadreceived。Hiscolorshiftedandchanged；hepickedfretfullyathisfinger-nails；helookedatArnoldasifhewasgoingtospeak——andthenlookedawayagain，insilence。
“Istheresomethingamiss，Geoffrey，besidesthisbadnewsaboutyourfather？“askedArnold。
“I’minthedevil’sownmess，“wastheanswer。