After a moment's hesitation Leonora followed and overtook them at the bottom of the stairs; it was the first time she had forsaken the bedside. She was surprised to see Fred Ryley in the hall, self-conscious but apparently determined to be quite at home. She remembered that he said he should come up again as soon as he had arranged matters at the works.
'Just take Mr. Myatt to the cab, will you?' said Twemlow quietly to Fred. 'I'll follow.'
'Certainly,' Fred agreed, pulling his moustache nervously. 'Now, Mr. Myatt, let me help you.'
'Ay!' said Meshach. 'Thou shalt help me if thou'n a mind.' As he was feeling for the step with his stick he stopped and looked round at Leonora. 'Lass!' he exclaimed, 'thou toldst me John was i' smooth water.' Then he departed and they could hear his shuffling steps on the gravel.
Twemlow glanced inquiringly at Leonora.
'Come in here,' she said briefly, pointing to the drawing-room. They entered; it was dark.
'Your uncle made me drive up with him,' Arthur explained, as if in apology.
She ignored the remark. 'You must go back to New York—at once,' she told him, in a dry, curt voice.
'Yes,' he assented, 'I suppose I'd better.'
'And don't write to me—until after I have written.'