“Oh, nothing. That is, nothing in particular. I was merely thinking from battle, murder and sudden death, Good Lord deliver us! And yet——”
“Well?”
Violet looked her over. “I know I ought not to tell and for that very reason I will. Your two husbands are to fight to-day. They may be at it now——”
Abruptly she made a face, dropped her voice and threw out:
“No such luck.”
In the doorway Barouffski stood.
Leilah had not seen. Inwardly she had shrivelled. To the sudden knowledge that the two men were to fight, fear, as suddenly, superposed the conviction that Verplank would be killed. It stirred in her a wholly animal longing to get away from herself; to be rid, however transiently, of that sense of horror and helplessness which only the tortured know. In an effort to shut out the pain of it, she closed her eyes.
When she opened them, Barouffski was before her. Affably he was addressing her friend.
“Beautiful day, Lady Silverstairs. In London you do not often have such weather. I hope Lord Silverstairs is planning to keep you here a very long time.”