"But—but—" stammered the dumfounded man.
"Mr. Estey, you will do what I ask you to—and please go—quickly! He's sure to come out to see—these." She just touched the case of Babylonian tablets.
To the man, looking into her anguished eyes, came a swift, overwhelming revelation. He remembered, suddenly, stories he had heard of a tragedy in Burke Denby's domestic affairs. He remembered words—illuminating words—that this woman had said to him. It could not be— And yet—
He caught his breath.
"I am Mrs. Burke Denby," she interrupted quietly. "You will not betray me, I know. Now, will you go, please?"
For one appalled instant he gazed straight into her eyes; then without a word he turned and left her.
He knew, a minute later, that he was saying something (he wondered afterward what it was) to Mr. Burke Denby out in the main shop. He knew, too, without looking up, that a woman and a little girl passed quietly by at the other side of the room and disappeared through the open doorway. Then, dazedly, Mr. Donald Estey looked about him. He was wondering if, after all, he had not been dreaming.
That evening he learned that it was not a dream. Freely, and with a frank confidence that touched him deeply, the woman he had known as Mrs. Darling told him the whole story. He heard it with naturally varying emotions. He tried to be just, to be coolly unprejudiced. He tried also, to hide his own heartache. He even tried to be glad that she loved her husband, as she so unmistakably did.
"And you'll tell him now, of course—where you are," he said, when she had finished.