Of the real palpitating horror of the situation only three people round the table knew the true inwardness. They were Tchigorsky and Ralph and Mrs. May. Geoffrey guessed much, and probably Marion could have said a deal had she cared to. Her face was smiling again, but the uneasy, haunted look never left her eyes. And all through the elaborate, daintily served meal Mrs. May never glanced at the girl once.
And yet, here under the Ravenspur roof, partaking of the family hospitality, was the evil itself. Ralph smiled to himself grimly as he wondered what his father would say if he knew the truth.
Once or twice as he spoke Mrs. May glanced at him curiously. She was herself now; she might have been an honored guest at that table for years.
"Your face is oddly familiar to me," she said.
"I regret I cannot say the same," Ralph replied. "I am blind."
"But you have not always been blind?"
"No. But my misfortune dates back for a number of years. It is a matter that I do not care to discuss with anybody."
But Mrs. May was not to be baffled. She had an odd feeling that this man and herself had met before. The face was the same, and yet not the same.
"Were you ever in Tibet?" she asked.
"I had a brother who once went there," Ralph replied. "I am accounted like him. It is possible you may have met my brother, madam."