Thornton Carey glanced at her uneasily; his good sense told him that this forced calmness was unnatural, and might be dangerous, and yet, now that he had once entered upon his mission, he could not hesitate to go through with it.
'There is reason to believe,' he said, half averting his head, for, though her eyes were covered by her hands, he felt as though her gaze was directed towards him, 'there is reason to believe that poor Griswold was the victim of foul play--that he met his death unfairly--' he saw that she failed to perceive his meaning, and added slowly--'that he was murdered!'
'O my God!' she cried; and with a piercing shriek she threw herself forward on the table, burying her head in her arms, which were enshrouded in her loose hair.
Thornton Carey sprang to his feet, and hastened to fetch her some iced-water from the pitcher which stood on the buffet. When he returned with the tumbler, she was sobbing fearfully, and rocking herself to and fro, moaning dismally the while.
'O, my Alston, my darling, my own husband--O, why did you leave me? Why did you not listen to me when I implored you not to go this fatal journey?'
'Helen,' said Thornton Carey, touching her lightly on the shoulder, 'where is the courage you promised to show me?'
'O, to think that he is dead! that I shall never see him again! O, my own darling, my own Alston--to think that he has been killed!'
'You are right to mourn him,' said Carey gently, 'for he was the best, the kindest, the most generous of men.'
'O, who could speak of that so well as I could?' murmured Helen, her face still covered. 'Did he not give me everything I wanted? Was it not for my sake that he took this journey in which he lost his life?'
'Recollect then, Helen, that, however much you may deplore his loss, there is yet another duty owing to his memory. If my suspicions are correct, he was treacherously and basely murdered, and our first duty is to avenge his death, and bring the murderer to justice.'