"Craig?" ejaculated Margaret.
"Yes, Miss Rita."
"Craig," repeated Margaret, but in a very different tone—a tone of immense satisfaction and relief. She waved her hand with a smile of amused disdain. "Take them into the house, but not to my room. Put them in Miss Lucia's sitting-room."
Williams had just gone when into the walk rushed Grant and Craig. Their faces were so flurried, so full of tragic anxiety that Margaret, stopping short, laughed out loud. "You two look as if you had come to view the corpse."
"I passed Craig on his way here," explained Grant, "and took him into my machine."
"I was not on my way here," replied Josh loftily. "I was merely taking a walk. He asked me to get in and brought me here in spite of my protests."
"You were on the road that leads here," insisted Arkwright with much heat.
"I repeat I was simply taking a walk," insisted Craig. He had not once looked at Margaret.
"No matter," said Margaret in her calm, distant way. "You may take him away, Grant. And"—here she suddenly looked at Craig, a cold, haughty glance that seemed to tear open an abysmal gulf between them—"I do not wish to see you again. I am done with you. I have been on the verge of telling you so many times of late."
"Is THAT what you sent Grant after me to tell me?"