“ ‘Because there’s another thing I wanted to do,’ he repeated wearily. ‘In Paris, in the Rue St. Claire, there lives a woman. She was beautiful once—to me she is beautiful now. She was my woman until——’ And his eyes sought the dead body of Henry Granger.
“Ruth took a deep breath. ‘Yes—until?’ she whispered.
“ ‘Until he came,’ said the man gravely. ‘And God will decide between him and me. But I would have liked to look on her once more, and hold her hand, and tell her, yet again, that I understood—absolutely.’
“It was then Ruth Granger crossed to him.
“ ‘What is her name and the number of the house?’ she said.
“ ‘Sybil Deering is her name,’ he answered slowly, ‘and the number is fourteen.’
“ ‘Will you leave it to me?’ she asked.
“For a moment he stared at her in silence, then he bowed.
“ ‘From the bottom of my heart I thank you, Lady Granger, and I hope you will have all the happiness you deserve.’ He glanced at Shoreham and smiled. ‘When a man loves everything else goes to the wall, doesn’t it? Remember that in the future, Sir Edward, when they’re standing before you, wondering, trying to read their fate. Someone loves them, just as you love her.’ ”
The Barrister rose and drained his glass.