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    Chapter 38

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    It was one of the raids which left hellish things behind it--things
    hushed with desperate combined effort to restrain panic, but which
    blighted the air people strove to breathe and kept men and women
    shuddering for long after and made people waken with sharp cries from
    nightmares of horror. Certain paled faces belonged to those who had seen
    things and would never forget them. Others strove to look defiant and
    cheerful and did not find it easy. Some tried to get past policemen to
    certain parts of the city and some, getting past, returned livid and
    less adventurous in spirit because they had heard things it was gruesome
    to hear. Lord Coombe went the next morning to the slice of a house and
    found the servants rather hysterical. Feather had not returned, but they
    were not hysterical for that reason. She had probably remained at the
    house to which she had gone to see the Zepps. After the excitement was
    over, people like the Sinclairs were rather inclined to restore
    themselves by making a night of it, so to speak.

    As "to-morrow" had now arrived, Lord Coombe wished to see her on her
    return. He had in fact lain awake thinking of plans of defence but had
    so far been able to decide on none. If there had been anything to touch,
    to appeal to, there might have been some hope, but she had left taste
    and fastidiousness scattered in shreds behind her. The War, as she put
    it, had made her less afraid of life. She had in fact joined the army of
    women who could always live so long as their beauty lasted. At the
    beginning of her relations with Lord Coombe she had belonged in a sense
    to a world which now no longer existed in its old form. Possibly there
    would soon be neither courts nor duchesses and so why should anything
    particularly matter? There were those who were taking cataclysms lightly
    and she was among them. If her airy mind chanced to have veered and her
    temper died down, money or jewels might induce her to keep quiet if one
    could endure the unspeakable indignity of forcing oneself to offer
    them. She would feel such an offer no indignity and would probably
    regard it as a tremendous joke. But she could no more be trusted than a
    female monkey or jackdaw.

    Lord Coombe sat among the gewgaws in the drawing room and waited because
    he must see her when she came in and at least discover if the weather
    cock had veered.


    After waiting an hour or more he heard a taxi arrive at the front door
    and stop there. He went to the window to see who got out of the vehicle.
    It gave him a slight shock to recognise a man he knew well. He wore
    plain clothes, but he was a member of the police force.

    He evidently came into the house and stopped in the hall to talk to the
    immature footman who presently appeared at the
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