"Dear aunt," she said quickly. "What is it?"
"Vera," Mrs. Gordon replied. "She called me into her room just now saying she was feeling far from well. I had hardly got into her room before she fainted. I have never known Vera do such a thing before."
Ralph was sitting and drumming his fingers on the table as if the subject had not the slightest interest for him. But, with the swiftness of lightning, a strange, hard, cunning expression flashed across his face and was gone. When Marion turned to him he had vanished also. It almost seemed as if he had the gift of fernseed.
"A mere passing weakness," Marion said soothingly.
"I should like to think so," Mrs. Gordon replied. "In normal circumstances I should think so. But not now; not now, Marion."
Marion sighed deeply. There were times when even she was oppressed.
"I'll go and see Vera," she said. "I am sure there is no cause for alarm."
Marion slipped rapidly away up the stone stairs and along the echoing corridor toward Vera's room. She was smiling now, and she kissed her hand to the dead and gone Ravenspurs frowning upon her from the walls. Then she burst gaily into Vera's room.
"My dear child," she cried, "you really must not alarm us by——"
She paused suddenly. Vera, fully dressed, was seated in a chair, whilst Ralph was by her side. He seemed more alive than usual; he had been saying something to Vera that had brought the color to her face. As Marion entered he grew grave and self-contained; like a snail retreating into its shell, Marion thought. He sat down and tattooed with his fingers on the dressing-table.