"I should like to hear the story," said Steel.
Enid paused and lowered the lamp as a step was heard outside. But it was only Williams.
"Mr. Henson is in his bedroom still," he said. "I've just taken him the cigars. He's got a lump on his head as big as a billiard-ball. Thinks he hit it against a branch. And my lady have locked herself in her room and refused to see anybody."
"Go and look at our patient," Enid commanded.
Williams disappeared, to return presently with the information that Van
Sneck was still fast asleep and lying very peacefully.
"Looks like waiting till morning, it do," he said. "And now I'll go back and keep my eye on that 'ere distinguished philanthropist."
Williams disappeared, and Enid turned up the lamp again. Her face was pale and resolute. She motioned David towards a chair.
"I'll tell you the story," she said. "I am going to confide in you the saddest and strangest tale that ever appealed to an imaginative novelist."