“Upset—I—yes, it is so sudden. I am a bit—there, I’m all right now.”
“Poor Madelaine! she must be in sad trouble.”
Greater than the speaker realised.
She was in the dining-room with the elder Vine, and hung for a few moments on Louise’s neck to sob forth her troubles when she entered. Then, without a word or look at Harry, she hurried up-stairs.
“Why did you not speak to her, Harry?” whispered Louise.
He made no reply, but sat listening to his father, his eyes dilated and throat dry.
“And—and do they suspect any one?” whispered the young man in a voice he did not know for his own.
“No: the police have been away since, and they think they have a clue—two pedlars, who have been about the place lately.”
“And Mr Van Heldre—is—is he badly hurt?”
“Very badly. It is doubtful whether he can recover.”