of the hall, a screwed-up telegraph-envelope. Why had he not noticed it
before? He snatched at it. It was addressed to "Mrs. Prohack."

Mr. Prohack's soul was instantaneously bathed in heavenly solace.
Traumatic neurasthenia had nothing to do with Eve's disappearance! His
bliss was intensified by the fact that he had said not a word to the
servants and had not called Sissie. And it was somewhat impaired by the
other fact that he had been ass enough to tell the police. He was just
puzzling his head to think what misfortune could have called his wife
away--not that the prospect of any misfortune much troubled him now that
Eve's vanishing was explained--when through the doorway he saw a taxi
drive up. Eve emerged from the taxi.



II


He might have gone out and paid the fare for her, but he stayed where he
was, in the doorway, thinking with beatific relief that after all
nothing had "happened" in the family.

"Ah!" he said, in the most ordinary, complacent, quite undisturbed
tone, "I was just beginning to wonder where you'd got to. We've been
back about five minutes, Sissie and I, and Sissie's gone to bed. I
really don't believe she knows you were out."

Mrs. Prohack came urgently towards him, pushing the door to behind her
with a careless loud bang. The bang might waken the entire household,
but Mrs. Prohack did not care. Mrs. Prohack kissed him without a word.