"It is no concern of yours. Hold your tongue, and attend to your own concerns," commanded Dr. Bryant. Then, as he noticed the whitening circle round Lettice's lips, he added gently, "Go into the drawing room, Lettice. I will take a cup of tea to you there."
"Is that the way you mean to bring her to confession?" asked Theodosia.
"I do not know. Another cup of tea, if you please."
"She has not taken half that—and your egg will get cold."
"Let it." The Doctor himself emptied Lettice's cup, held it out to be refilled, and took a slice of dry toast. "Mind!" he said to his wife as he went. "If you do not silence that boy's chatter, I will take means to do so."
Then, making his way to the drawing room, he placed the cup and toast on a small table beside Lettice, saying simply—"This first."
"I don't think I can eat," she whispered.
"You must."
She obeyed silently, at whatever cost: and he took the empty cup away. On his return, he stood watching the girl's downcast face, unobserved, for two or three minutes. Had she forgotten his presence? It might seem so, from her start when he spoke.
"Tell me now, child. I cannot go on in uncertainty. I promise to accept your word without hesitation. Did you—or did you not—touch the bank-note?"