“No, no!” she cried; and then more emphatically, “No! Glynne, Glynne!”
Then her sobs choked her utterance, and she hid her face in her hands, sobbing in the most violently hysterical manner, till, utterly exhausted, she lay back in the chair so still and reduced that Alleyne grew alarmed, and, hurrying out of the room, he set off for Oldroyd.
“Miss Alleyne? Taken ill?” cried the young doctor excitedly. “I’ll be with you directly. Has she heard of that terrible business?”
“Business? What business?” faltered Alleyne. “What! haven’t you heard?” cried Oldroyd in amazement. “Why, about Miss Day.”
Alleyne gazed at him enquiringly, and Oldroyd leaned forward and said a few words in Alleyne’s ear, making him sink back silent and ghastly into a chair.
Volume Three—Chapter Eight.
The Fallen Star.
“There, I think everything is in train,” said Sir John, as he and his brother sat together over a final cigar before retiring for the night, for Glynne and the friends staying in the house had gone to their rooms, and the brothers were at last alone.