“Under arrest!” An ivory warrior, of the Dynasty of Bing, jumped out of her slackening hand and rolled under the bookcase unheeded. “Under arrest! Good gracious. You must tell me all about it at once. Come into the dining room. I must make myself a pot of tea or I shall be faint. Come at once and tell me.”
“Certainly. You must be in possession of all the facts,” he said, soothingly.
Dawn was sending opalescent flushes across the horizon and the bird life in the gardens of Roseborough was waking with musical murmurs. Rosamond entered the living room and walked about, dejectedly, turning off the lights. A white mist lay over the river. The air was damp and sweet.
CHAPTER XXVI
Rosamond heard wheels and the rattling of milk-pails.
“It must be nearly five,” she said.
“Oh, Mrs. Mearely.”
She looked up to see Corinne tiptoeing in, with glances daring, mischievous and fearful too; for this most delicious act of disobedience was sure of its tragic sequel. Mabel followed her. There was nothing playful in Miss Crewe’s demeanour. She was pale and tense. Her prettily modelled rose-pink lips were compressed into a narrow chalky line. She stood in the doorway, staring at Rosamond as if the lady of Villa Rose were some strange being she had never seen before.
“Oh Mrs. Mearely, I’m so glad you’re all right. We have been so frightened about you. Mamma ordered me to stay at home—and she wouldn’t let Mabel come at all—but we’ve disobeyed. It’ll be awful! But Mamma was so mysterious. I felt that you must be in some trouble and I wanted to be here, even if I couldn’t do anything. You know, I ...” she looked down, shyly, “I think you so beautiful. You mustn’t be in trouble.”