Christopher assured her that what Roberta thought (she and her gay friends were still dancing downstairs) was the very least of his preoccupations, and he was planning to turn his sweetheart's thoughts into a different channel when Seraphine came forward out of the shadows followed by Dr. Owen.
“Why, Seraphine!” exclaimed Penelope in astonishment. “Where did you come from? And Dr. Owen?”
Seraphine greeted her friend lovingly and kissed her, but there was unconcealed anxiety in her voice and manner.
“Dear child, something very serious has happened. You were ill and—Dr. Owen came to help you. He wants to ask you some questions.”
“Yes?” replied Penelope, her face paling.
Then the doctor, with scarcely any prelude and with almost brutal directness, said: “Mrs. Wells, I want you to tell me why you accused Captain Herrick of disloyalty.”
Poor Penelope! She could only gasp for breath and turn whiter still. Accuse her dear Christopher whom she loved and honored above all men of any wrong or baseness! God in heaven! If she had done this she wanted to die.
“I—I didn't,” she stammered. “I couldn't do such a thing.”
But the doctor was relentless. “If what you said to me a few minutes ago is true,” he went on coldly, “it will be my duty, as a major in the United States Army, to order the arrest of Captain Herrick for treason against the government.”
At this startling assertion Penelope fell back as if struck down by a mortal wound, and lay still on the couch, a pitiful crumpled figure. The others gathered around her apprehensively.