She stood quite still; her impassive features seemed
like a plaster cast, from which all life and feeling were drawn out.
Her eyes began slowly to dilate, and she shivered as though with cold.
Then the man who was watching her and wondering, knew that this was
fear--fear undiluted and naked.
He stepped forward, and placed a chair for her. She felt for the back
of it with trembling fingers and sat down.
"Is--Sir Wingrave Seton--out of prison?" she asked in a strange, dry
tone. One would have thought that she had been choking.
"Since yesterday," Aynesworth answered.
"But his time--is not up yet?"
"There is always a reduction," Aynesworth reminded her, "for what is
called good conduct."
She was silent for several moments. Then she raised her head. She was
a brave woman, and she was rapidly recovering her self-possession.
"Well," she asked, "what does he want?"
"To see you," Aynesworth answered, "tomorrow afternoon, either here or
at his apartments in the Clarence Hotel. He would prefer not to come
here!"
"Are you his friend?" she asked.
"I am his secretary," Aynesworth answered.
"You are in his confidence?"
"I only entered his service this morning," he said.
"How much do you know," she persisted, "of the unfortunate affair
which led--to his imprisonment?"
"I have been told the whole story," Aynesworth answered.
Her eyes rested thoughtfully upon his. It seemed as though she were
trying to read in his face exactly what he meant by "the whole story.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52