Guest gave her a pitying, appealing look, but he did not speak.
“Yes, it must be true,” she said, as she rose to her feet, and stood supporting herself by Guest’s arm, while Edie held her hand. “You have not told anyone?” she said eagerly.
“No; I came here as soon as I knew.”
“Where is Mr Stratton?”
“At his chambers.”
“And you, his friend, have left him at such a time?”
“It was at his wish,” said Guest gently; “his secret is safe with me.”
“Yes. He trusts you. I trust you. Percy Guest, Edie, even if he is guilty, he must be saved. No, no, it could not be guilt. I must not be weak now. He may be innocent, and the law can be so cruel. Who knows what may be the cause!”
She pressed her hands to her temples for a few moments, and then the power to think grew clearer.
“Go to him—from me. Tell him I bid him leave England at once. Leave with him, if you can be of help. Stop. He is not rich. Edie, all the money you have. Mr Guest, take this, too, and I will get more. Now go, and remember that you are his friend. Write to me and Edie, and we will send; but, though all is over, let me know that his life is safe.”