Stafford looked his thanks.
"No, I could not have helped them," he said. "No one knew less of my poor father's affairs than I, no one is less capable of dealing with them than I. Mr. Falconer will know what to do. It is very good of him to come to my assistance. I have scarcely seen him; I have not seen anyone but you."
"And Maude?" said Howard, interrogatively.
"No," said Stafford, his brows drawn together. "I have not seen her.
She has been ill—"
"Yes," said Howard, in a low voice. "She is prostrated by the shock, poor girl! You will go to her as soon as she is able to leave her room?"
"Yes, of course," said Stafford, very gravely and wearily.
There was a knock at the door, and the footman, in his mourning livery, came in and said, solemnly:
"Mr. Falconer would like to know if you will see him, my lord?"
A frown crossed Stafford's pale face at the "my lord." It sounded strange and mockingly in his ears.
"I will come at once," he said. "Come with me, Howard."