The lawyer’s left leg walked in sedately, but was overrun by the right, which almost rushed him into Christian’s arms. The left backed promptly, and bumped him into the doctor, but he was too distracted to apologise. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand, which he shuffled continually like a pack of cards.
“Your step-brother is dead,” said the doctor, switching on the light from the door, so that the oak panelling and the windows went black, and Christian’s fair head stood out sharply like a young saint’s.
He was home barely a couple of hours ago from a long tour abroad, and both doctor and lawyer looked at him curiously, standing as he was on the threshold of a new and unexpected experience. He had not been of much account hitherto, with the master of Crump scarcely turned thirty; but now he was everything. It was astonishing how simple he looked,—and how little one knew of him.
“I know,” Christian answered, thinking of the rooks, and stopped. Not that it mattered, for the words reached neither of his companions. Looking from one to the other, he beheld the fingering of a great surprise. The face of the butler returned to him, and he wondered suddenly what Slinkin’ Lyndesay’s death could have had to say to his life.
The silk-whisper along the hall had something cruel in it, and again he looked at the window. An old keeper, passing, halted and spoke, and with a sense of relief he went out quickly into the bleak night. Doctor and lawyer exchanged glances; the former shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly; then their eyes went back to the door.
Alicia de Lyndesay came in very erect, very composed, her hands and face very still. The day’s tragedy had not softened by one whit the set line of her lips. You would never have guessed that she had laid her heart as a broken flower is laid on the breast of the slinkin’ hound upstairs.
The lawyer drew forward a chair, and the doctor surreptitiously pushed a footstool, but neither looked at her for more than a second, and they did not look at all at the girl who followed behind.
Deb entered with her head up, white but tranquil, in full command of herself, to all appearance almost unstirred. The lawyer ventured a chair in her direction also, and she took it with a brief word of thanks, folding her hands and looking straight in front of her.
Mrs. Lyndesay touched the bell and ordered tea, and there was a chilling pause, during which the two men stared uneasily at the carpet; while before the mother’s hidden gaze was nothing but a slinkin’ hound slipping away from her for ever.
“Where is Christian?” she asked at last, looking round. “They told me he had arrived.” There was no need in her voice, only desire for information.