“If you will open this door,” he said, “you will see another one exactly opposite to you. That is the drawing-room. You will find Esther there. Before you go, will you pass me the Quarterly Review? Thank you.”
Hamel crossed the hall, opened the door of the room to which he had been directed, and made his way towards the piano. Esther was there, playing softly to herself with eyes half closed. He came and stood by her side, and she stopped abruptly. Her eyes questioned him. Then her fingers stole once more over the keys, more softly still.
“I have just left your uncle,” Hamel said. “He told me that I might come in here.”
“Yes?” she murmured.
“He was very hospitable,” Hamel continued. “He wanted me to remain here as a guest and not go to the Tower at all.”
“And you?”
“I am going to the Tower,” he said. “I am going there to-morrow or the day after.”
The music swelled beneath her fingers.
“For how long?”
“For a week or so. I am just giving your uncle time to clear out his belongings. I am leaving him the outhouse.”