He showed the note to his mother, enclosed it then in an envelope, addressed and stamped it, leaving it on the desk ready for the post.
The ordeal he had so dreaded had been passed through. The terrible secret had been revealed. Now he wished he had spoken of it long ago.
“You are going to Gloucester? When?”
“On Wednesday. The regiment is stationed at Holston, some miles from Gloucester.”
“Holston? Why, is not that near the place where Flore Hall is situated?”
“Yes. I look forward to going over the old house once more as one of the few pleasures in store for me down there. I feel thankful to get away now.”
Neither Captain Desfrayne nor his mother knew that the old Hall in which he had spent so many days of his childhood had been left to Lois Turquand by her dead benefactor.
The storm had passed, leaving but little trace behind.
Mrs. Desfrayne easily persuaded her son to remain for the rest of the evening with her.
On Wednesday Captain Desfrayne was to go to Gloucester.