"Oh, Major!" she exclaimed. "I was hurrying to call you back. Di thinks she's strong enough to go down now."
The door remained open, and I saw Di sitting on a sofa just opposite, with an empty champagne glass in her hand. Her white face and white figure in her wedding dress stood out like a wonderfully painted portrait against the fashionable black chintz wall-covering of the bedroom. Seeing her husband, she stood up and came forward, setting the wineglass on the table as she passed. "I'm all right now," she said, and then caught sight of me.
"Oh, cruel!" she reproached me. "Was it he who asked you not to tell, or was it your own thought?"
"He?" I echoed. "You all talk in riddles. You accuse me of something, and won't explain what it is."
"You must know!" Di exclaimed. "But I can't talk about it now, or I shall break down again. Thanks for the champagne, Sid. You were right; it did me good. Now we'll go."
She brushed past me in the corridor, her head turned away; and as I stared stupidly after her and Major Vandyke, suddenly my eyes fell on a small but conspicuous spot of red that marred the lustre of Di's silver train. It looked like a drop of blood.
When the two had gone, I pounced upon Mrs. Main. "For pity's sake, explain the mystery!"
"Oh, it was dreadful for a few minutes," she said. "There was nearly the most awful accident. Of course you came out too late to see. But—you do know who was in the church?—at least, I suppose he must have been there."
I started as if she had boxed my ears, for without telling, I knew all she meant. I remembered the odd feeling I had had of some one trying to call me, as if in a dream; and how I had looked behind me in vain. Tony, too, had been very strange. He had begun to say something and had stopped in haste. He had promised to explain later, but coming home I had forgotten to ask him. There had been the excitement about the supposed accident to Diana, and my thoughts had clung to that.
Now I realized that there was only one person who might have been at St. George's with my secret connivance, whose presence there Sidney Vandyke would furiously resent: Eagle March.