As she expected, Elizabeth tossed and turned the rest of the night, slipping in and out of sleep until the twittering sparrows finally got her out of bed at the break of dawn. All night long she’d listened for the shrill ring of the telephone, not really sure if she was waiting to hear about Martin, or if her thoughts were more concerned with the long silence from Earl.

Much to her surprise, Violet was already up and pottering about the kitchen when Elizabeth entered it some time later. It was not yet six o’clock, but the sun streamed through the windows and bathed the kitchen in a warm glow.

While her housekeeper poured her a steaming cup of tea, Elizabeth rang George’s house again. This time his wife answered.

“He’s gone down to the station early, your ladyship,” Millie said. “He’s really worried about poor Mr. Chezzlewit. We were all out looking for him last night until it got too dark to see.”

“I appreciate all your efforts,” Elizabeth said, feeling ridiculously close to tears. “I just can’t think where he could be.”

“I’m sure he’s all right, m’m. My George will find him today, I’m sure.”

Wishing she could feel as confident, Elizabeth hung up the telephone. “I’m going down to the police station,” she told Violet. “I just can’t sit around here not knowing what they are doing about this.”

“Breakfast first,” Violet said. “You need something in your tummy before you go out.”

“I’m too upset to eat.” The morning newspaper lay on the table and she picked it up. “I don’t suppose there’s any more news about the invasion.”

“Haven’t had time to read it yet.” Violet stirred a simmering pot of porridge with a large wooden spoon. “More doom and gloom in there, no doubt.”

Elizabeth scanned the headlines. “It’s not much different from yesterday’s news. I wish they would tell us what’s really going on over there.”