"You are saying a deuced unpleasant thing, my dear," he broke forth.
"It is true," she answered. "What would be the use in not saying it?"
He had no reply to make. The trouble was that he never had a reply to make to these deadly simple statements of hers.
He began to walk up and down the room.
"The people we invited to dine with us," she said, "will not come. They will hear what is going on and will be afraid. It is very stupid."
"I wonder," he faltered, "if Murdoch will fail us. He never did before."
"No," she answered. "He will not stay away."
The afternoon dragged its unpleasant length along. As it passed Ffrench found in every hour fresh cause for nervousness and excitement. The servant who had been out brought disagreeable enough tidings. The small police force of the town had its hands full in attending to its business of keeping order.
"If we had had time to send to Manchester for some assistance," said Mr. Ffrench.