“Let me go down, and take her home with me,” suggested Claire Blackwood, eager to do anything that might help or ease the coming disclosure of the tragedy.
“Oh, I don’t know,——” demurred Varian. “You see, she’s got to know,—of course, she must be told at once,—and then,—she’ll have to look after Betty,—where is the child? Anyway, my wife is a tower of strength,—she’ll be able to manage Mrs Varian,—even if she has violent hysterics,—which, of course, she will!”
“Command me, Doctor Varian,” said Landon. “I will do whatever you advise.”
“All right; I’ll be glad of your assistance. Suppose you go back to the people down there on the rocks, and then,—let me see,—suppose you tell my wife first what has happened; then, ask her to break the news to Mrs Varian,—she’ll know how best to do it. Then,—oh, Lord,—I don’t know what then! They’ll have to come back here,—I suppose,—what else can they do? I don’t know, Mrs Blackwood, but your idea of taking Mrs Varian away with you is a good one. If she’ll go.”
“She won’t go,” said Claire, decidedly, “if she knows the truth. If I take her, it’ll have to be on some false pretense,——”
“Won’t do,” said Varian, briefly. “We’ve got no right to keep her in ignorance of her husband’s death. No; she must be told. That girl of mine, too,—Eleanor, she hasn’t her mother’s poise,—she’s likely to go to pieces,—always does, in the presence of death. Oh, what a moil!”
“Here’s another thing,” said Landon, a little hesitantly. “What about the authorities?”
“Yes,—yes,——” the doctor spoke impatiently, “I thought of that,—who are they, in this God-forsaken place? Town Constable, I suppose.”
“I don’t know myself,” said Landon. “County Sheriff, more likely. But Clark’s a good, sensible sort. Say we send him down to the village——”
“Oh, must it be known down there right away?” cried Claire. “Before even Mrs Varian is told! Or Betty. Where is Betty?”