So of course he went to pieces.
After Cliffe had left me, with his desire for information unsatisfied, I rang up Wellings Park.

It was the Sunday morning after the reception.
To my surprise, Sir Anthony answered me; for he was an old-fashioned country churchgoer and plague, pestilence, famine, battle, murder and sudden death had never been known to keep him out of his accustomed pew on Sunday morning.

Edith, he informed me, had gone to church; he himself, being as nervous as a cat, had funked it; he was afraid lest he might get up in the middle of the sermon and curse the Vicar.
"If that's so," said I, "come round here and talk sense.

I've something important to say to you." He agreed and shortly afterwards he arrived.

I was shocked to see him.
His ruddy face had yellowed and the firm flesh had loosened and sagged.
I had never noticed that his stubbly hair was so grey.