Luke standing in the dock, like a common criminal!
"I'll just see about getting a cab, dear," said her uncle kindly.
The first of those thousand and one trivialities which would go on and on from now onward in endless monotony, whilst Luke prepared for his trial, for his condemnation, perhaps for death.
It was indeed unthinkable. No wonder that her mind rebelled at the task, refusing all thoughts, remaining like a gray, blank slate from which every impression of past and future has been wiped out.
Sir Thomas Ryder went out of the room, and Mr. Warren went with him. They left the door ajar, so she could hear them talking in the hall. Mr. Warren said:
"Don't go out, Sir Thomas. It's a horrid night. Fletcher will get you a cab."
And Sir Thomas replied: "Thank you."
"Won't you," said the younger man, "wait in the library?"
He had apparently rung a bell, for the man servant came into the hall and was duly told off to whistle for a cab.
"I'd rather go into another room, for a moment, Mr. Warren, if I may," said Sir Thomas. "There are just one or two little questions I would like to put to you."