Stephen frowned as if angry at making a slip.
“No—no,” he said with gentle hesitation. “No; I saw him in London. He is not at Earl’s Court.”
“Not at Earl’s Court!” said Una, with surprise. “How is that? Oh, he is not ill?”
And her breath came sharply.
Stephen turned to the fire, with knitted brow and compressed lip, and fidgeted with the poker.
“No,” he replied, slowly, and as if uncertain what to say—“he is not ill.”
“Then why did he not go?” asked Una.
Stephen remained silent; and still keeping her eyes fixed on his pale face, she rose and glided to his side.
“You have something to tell me,” she said, laying her hand on his arm, and speaking in a low, panting voice. “What is it? You will tell me, will you not? Has anything happened to Lady Bell? Is she at Earl’s Court?”
“Yes, she is at Earl’s Court,” he said, almost bitterly, “and she is quite well, I believe.”