It was open, and he could see that Dinah was seated at work; and, as if irresistibly attracted by her, he advanced quickly two or three steps to enter by the window; but he suddenly turned off by the path leading to the door.
“Yes; far better, Reed,” said a low voice at his elbow.
“Major Gurdon!”
“Yes. It was cool and pleasant out here. How plainly a man’s features sometimes show his intentions. Will you have a cigar? I am going to smoke another.”
“Not now,” said Clive huskily, as he followed his host up the garden to some seats. “You are right, sir, and it was an unwarrantable liberty. I am glad I did not take it.”
“So am I,” said the Major drily. “But I thought it possible that you might come over this evening.”
“And I have come, sir, for I have grave news to communicate.”
“Great heavens!” cried the Major, starting from his garden-seat in a nook of the ferny rocks, “don’t tell me, sir, that there is anything wrong about the mine.”
Clive was silent for a few moments as he gazed at the dimly seen, agitated face before him, and saw that the Major hurriedly wiped his brow.
“Tell me, then,” he said hoarsely, “the worst.”