Ray ran to the door.
"I'll get a paper," she said.
Before Mr. Parker or Mr. Steell could prevent her the young girl had opened the front door. Now there was no way of preventing Helen knowing. The best thing was to prepare her gently.
"My dear Mrs. Traynor—I didn't tell you the trouble just now. There has been a little trouble. The Abyssinia——"
Helen gave a cry of anguish.
"I knew it! I knew it! Kenneth is dead!"
"No, no, my dear lady. These newspaper reports are always grossly exaggerated. The Abyssinia has met with a little trouble—nothing very serious, I assure you. Everything is all right, no doubt. Your husband is well able to take care of himself. We may hear from him any moment, reassuring us as to his safety."
His words of comfort went unheeded. Her face white as death Helen tottered rather than walked to the door, reaching it just as Ray, almost as pale, entered, reading the paper she had just purchased. On seeing her sister she instinctively made an effort to hide the sheet, but Helen quickly snatched it out of her hand. Her hand trembling so violently that she could scarcely make out the letters she glanced at the big scare-head, printed in red ink, to imitate blood, a merciful custom sensational newspapers have of making the most of the agony of others.
S. S. ABYSSINIA GONE DOWN!
ALL PERISH!
For a moment she stood still, looking at the big type with open, staring eyes. Then, with a low cry, like a wounded animal, she let the paper slip from her nerveless fingers. There was a furious throbbing at her temples: her heart seemed to stop. The room spun round, and she fainted just as Steell rushed forward to catch her in his arms.