“Who is to thank for this?”
“It was a circumstance quite unforeseen.”
“I don’t doubt it. Where is that heavy-sleeping ass, whose snores swallow up footfalls and opening doors?”
“You mean—”
“I mean your first cousin for dulness of perception. Send me that brainless thing called Mariana.”
Everard withdrew. He walked along the corridor as evenly as usual. Whether doubt or misgiving was in his mind, it showed nothing in his face.
There, in the outer hall, scarcely having moved during the whole time, sat Mariana. On the opening of the door she looked up.
“The Master wishes to speak to you.”
“Is he very angry?”
“Nothing but what may be appeased. But you had better say no more than you can help.”