I felt I must speak to him, even if it was only for two minutes.
I must explain to him that I had not meant to do what I had done last night.
Even if I never spoke to him again, I must tell him that.
The clerk answered the telephone, and told me that Maxim was not there.
'Mr Crawley is here, Mrs de Winter,' said the clerk; 'would you speak to him?'
I would have refused, but he gave me no chance, and before I could put down the receiver I heard Frank's voice.
'Is anything the matter?'
It was a funny way to begin a conversation. The thought flashed through my mind.
He did not say good morning, or did you sleep well?
Why did he ask if something was the matter?
'Frank, it's me,' I said; 'where's Maxim?'
'I don't know, I haven't seen him.
He's not been in this morning.'
'Not been to the office?'
'No.'
'Oh!
Oh, well, it doesn't matter.'
'Did you see him at breakfast?' Frank said.
'No, I did not get up.'
'How did he sleep?'
I hesitated, Frank was the only person I did not mind knowing.
'He did not come to bed last night.'
There was silence at the other end of the line, as though Frank was thinking hard for an answer.
'Oh,' he said at last, very slowly.
'Oh, I see,' and then, after a minute, 'I was afraid something like that would happen.'
'Frank,' I said desperately, 'what did he say last night when everyone had gone?
What did you all do?'
'I had a sandwich with Giles and Mrs Lacy,' said Frank.
'Maxim did not come.
He made some excuse and went into the library.
I came back home almost at once.
Perhaps Mrs Lacy can tell you.'
'She's gone,' I said, 'they went after breakfast.
She sent up a note.
She had not seen Maxim, she said.'
'Oh,' said Frank.
I did not like it.
I did not like the way he said it.
It was sharp, ominous.
'Where do you think he's gone?' I said.
'I don't know,' said Frank; 'perhaps he's gone for a walk.'
It was the sort of voice doctors used to relatives at a nursing-home when they came to enquire.
'Frank, I must see him,' I said. 'I've got to explain about last night.'
Frank did not answer.
I could picture his anxious face, the lines on his forehead.
'Maxim thinks I did it on purpose,' I said, my voice breaking in spite of myself, and the tears that had blinded me last night and I had not shed came coursing down my cheeks sixteen hours too late.
'Maxim thinks I did it as a joke, a beastly damnable joke!'
'No,' said Frank.
'No.'
'He does, I tell you.