'No hurry?' said Rolfe, surprised by something in her tone. 'What do you mean by that?'
'Are you going to see Mr. Carnaby?' was her answer.
'I don't know where to find him, unless I go to the inquest.'
'I had rather you stayed here today,' said Alma; 'I feel far from well.'
'Yes, I shall stay. But I ought to let him hear from me. Best, perhaps, if I send a telegram to his place.'
The morning passed miserably enough. Alma went to her bedroom and lay there for an hour or two, then she strayed to the nursery and sat a while with Hugh and his governess. At luncheon she had no more appetite than at breakfast, though for very faintness her body could scarce support itself. After the meal Harvey went out to procure the earliest evening papers, and on his way he called at the doctor's house. Not till about five o'clock was a report of the Wimbledon inquest obtainable. Having read it, Harvey took the paper home, where he arrived just as the doctor drove up to the door.
Alma was again lying down; her eyes showed that she had shed tears. On Harvey's saying that the doctor was in the house, she answered briefly that she would see him. The result of the interview was made known to Rolfe. Nervous collapse; care and quiet; excitement of any kind to be avoided; the patient better in bed for a few days, to obtain complete rest. Avoidance of excitement was the most difficult of all things for Alma at present. Newspapers could not be kept from her; she waited eagerly for the report of the inquest.
'Carnaby tells an astonishing story,' said Rolfe, as he sat down by her when the doctor was gone.
'Let me read it for myself.'
She did so with every sign of agitation; but on laying the paper aside she seemed to become quieter. After a short silence a word or two fell from her.