He passed his arm around her reassuringly. "You are overwrought," he said. "You are almost at the end of your strength."
He poured out some brandy and water, and made her drink it. Her hand shook so that he had to guide the glass to her lips.
"Listen," he said, "you must keep calm or you will be ill, and you will not be able to help your brother. Tell me, have you eaten anything to-day?"
"I don't remember," she gasped.
Deane rang the bell. "Something to eat," he ordered, "for one, as quickly as you can. And some wine—anything will do."
It was to the man's credit that he received his orders without comment or surprise. Once more they two were alone.
"If you have any faith in me," Deane said, "or any belief, remember what I have told you. Your brother is safe. To-morrow or the next day the reprieve will be signed."
"Say it again!" she gasped, clinging to his hand.
"To-morrow or the next day," he repeated firmly, "the reprieve will be signed. There can be no mistake. There will be none."
"Ah!" she murmured, half closing her eyes. "It was to hear you talk like this that I came. I could not have borne it alone for another second. Something in my head seemed to be giving way."