He was shown into the library and left alone for nearly twenty minutes. Then Wilhelmina came, languid, and moving as though with tired feet. Yet her manner was gentler and kinder than usual. She leaned back in one of the vast easy-chairs, and murmured a few graceful words of sympathy.
“We were all so sorry for you, Mr. Hurd,” she said. “It was a most shocking affair.”
“I thank you very much—madam,” he replied, after a moment’s pause. It was better, perhaps, for the present, to assume that their relations were to continue those of employer and employed.
“I do not know,” she continued, “whether you care to speak about this shocking affair. Perhaps you would prefer that we did not allude to it for the present.”
He shook his head.
“I am not sure,” he answered, “that it is not rather a relief to have it spoken of. One can’t get it out of one’s mind, of course.”
“There is no news of the man—no fresh capture?”
“None,” he answered. “They are dragging the slate quarry again to-day. I believe there are some very deep holes where the body may have drifted.”
“Do you believe that that is the case?” she asked; “or do you think that he got clean away?”
“I cannot tell,” he answered. “It seems impossible that he should have escaped altogether without help.”