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　　Mrs. McCrae, Canon Pennyfather‘s housekeeper, had ordered a Dover sole for the evening of his return. Theadvantages attached to a good Dover sole were manifold. It need not be introduced to thegrill or frying pan until the Canon was safely in the house. It could be kept until thenext day if necessary. Canon Pennyfather was fond of Dover sole; and, if a telephone callor telegram arrived saying that the Canon would after all be elsewhere on this particularevening, Mrs. McCrae was fond of a good Dover sole herself. All therefore was in good trimfor the Canon’s return. The Dover sole would be followed bypancakes. The sole sat on the kitchen table, the batter for the pancakes was ready in abowl. All was in readiness. The brass shone, the silver sparkled, not a minuscule of dustshowed an

　　ere. There was only one thing lacking. The Canon himself.

　　The Canon was scheduled to return on the trainarriving at 6.30 from London.

　　At 7 o‘clock he had notreturned. No doubt the train was late. At 7.30 he still had not returned. Mrs. McCrae gavea sigh of vexation. She suspected that this was going to be another of these things. Eighto’clock came and no Canon. Mrs. McCrae gave a long,exasperated sigh. Soon, no doubt, she would get a telephone call, though it was quitewithin the bounds of possibility that there would not be even a telephone call. He mighthave written to her. No doubt he had written, but he had probably omitted to post theletter.

　　"Dear, dear!" saidMrs. McCrae.

　　At 9 o‘clock she madeherself three pancakes with the pancake batter. The sole she put carefully away in theFrigidaire. "I wonder where the good man’s got to now," she said to herself. She knew byexperience that he might be an

　　ere. The odds were that he would discover his mistake intime to telegraph her or telephone her before she retired to bed. "I shall sit up until 11 o‘clock but no longer,"said Mrs. McCrae. Ten-thirty was her bed-time, an extension to elevenshe considered her duty, but if at eleven there was nothing, no word from the Canon, thenMrs. McCrae would duly lock up the house and betake herself to bed.

　　It cannot be said that she was worried. This sort ofthing had happened before. There was nothing to be done but wait for news of some kind.The possibilities were numerous. Canon Pennyfather might have got on the wrong train andfailed to discover his mistake until he was at Land’s End orJohn o‘Groats, or he might still be in London having made somemistake in the date, and was therefore convinced he was not returning until tomorrow. Hemight have met a friend or friends at this foreign conference he was going to and beeninduced to stay out there perhaps over the weekend. He would have meant to let her knowbut had entirely forgotten to do so. So, as has been already said, she was not worried.The day after tomorrow his old friend, Archdeacon Simmons, was coming to stay. That wasthe sort of thing that Canon did remember, so no doubt he himself or a telegram from himwould arrive tomorrow and at latest he would be home on the day after, or there would be aletter.

　　The morning of the day after, however, arrivedwithout a word from him. For the first time Mrs. McCrae began to be uneasy. Between 9 a.m.and 1 p.m. she eyed the telephone in a doubtful manner. Mrs. McCrae had her own fixedviews about the telephone. She used it and recognised its convenience but she was not fondof the telephone. Some of her household shopping was done by telephone, though she muchpreferred to do it in person owing to a fixed belief that if you did not see what you werebeing given, a shopkeeper was sure to try and cheat you. Still, telephones were useful fordomestic matters. She occasionally, though rarely, telephoned her friends or relations inthe near neighbourhood. To make a call of any distance, or a London call, upset herseverely. It was a shameful waste of money. Nevertheless, she began to meditate facingthat problem.

　　Finally, when yet another day dawned without anynews of him she decided to act. She knew where the Canon was staying in London. Bertram’sHotel. A nice old-fashioned place. It might be as well, perhaps, if she rang up and madecertain inquiries. They would probably know where the Canon was. It was not an ordinaryhotel. She would ask to be put through to Miss Gorringe. Miss Gorringe was alwaysefficient and thoughtful. The Canon might, of course, return by the twelve-thirty. If sohe would be here any minute now.

　　But the minutes passed and there was no Canon. Mrs.McCrae took a deep breath, nerved herself and asked for a call to London. She waited,biting her lips and holding the receiver clamped firmly to her ear.

　　"Bertram‘s Hotel, at your service," said a voice.

　　"I would like, if you please, to speak to MissGorringe," said Mrs. McCrae.

　　"Just a moment. What name shall I say?"

　　"It’s CanonPennyfather‘s housekeeper. Mrs. McCrae."

　　"Just a moment please."

　　Presently the calm and efficient voice of MissGorringe came through.

　　"Miss Gorringe here. Did you say Canon Pennyfather’s housekeeper?"

　　"That‘s right. Mrs.McCrae."

　　"Oh yes. Of course. What can I do for you, Mrs.McCrae?"

　　"Is Canon Pennyfather staying at the hotel still?"

　　"I’m glad you‘ve rung up," said Miss Gorringe. "We have been rather worried as to what exactly to do."

　　"Do you mean something’shappened to Canon Pennyfather? Has he had an accident?"

　　"No, no, nothing of that kind. But we expected himback from Lucerne on Friday or Saturday."

"Eh – that‘d be right."