The next morning when Ben entered "The Booklovers' Rest" it appeared to be empty. Not a sign even of Ernie Bent, who usually had to be removed from the doorstep, which he was scrubbing, to let her pass.
And then from the depths came the wistful words:
Bring back, bring back, Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me!
"I didn't know it was you," he said, and flushed.
"I wanted to try your pet divination scheme again," said Ben. "May I?"
"I will just fumble for a book," said Ben.
She closed her eyes, approached the shelves and took down a volume. Then she opened it, read a few words, and smiled.
"I think so," she said, and was about to run up the stairs, but stopped. "Oh, by the way, Mr. St. Quentin," she said, "I've got a client coming to-day to talk about a memorial to her son: something philanthropic and costly. If I were to ask you to come up and join us, could you--would you?"
"With the greatest pleasure," said Patrick, "especially as there's a catalogue due and I ought to be at work on it. But neglecting work is so agreeable."
"Soon after three," said Ben, and ascended to her own domain.
When there, however, she received a shock, for instead of the ordinary placid and competent Jan, was a nervous unhappy Jan, saying that she had been to see the doctor on the evening before and he had ordered her to stop work instantly and go to Bournemouth or Torquay.
"Of course I shall do nothing of the kind until I can find you someone else," she said, "but I know I'm not well. I've been feeling weak for a long while now and I have horrible nights."
"I'm very sorry," said Ben. "It's a good deal my fault too, for allowing you to go on having no proper lunch and getting no midday break. I blame myself seriously, but you know, Jan, you were very obstinate. What does the doctor say it is?"
"He's afraid I may go into a decline," said Jan, "unless I have good air, and do nothing, and drink milk and eat a lot; and--and--I'd much rather be with you."
Mrs. Vicat arrived puffingly to time and again placed her handkerchief within easy range.
"Well, my dear," she said, "what have you decided? I hope it's the Littlehampton home."
"I want you to hear what Mr. St. Quentin, one of the owners of the book shop downstairs, has to say," said Ben.