Appleby went with him, and an hour or two later was shown into Mrs. Wayne’s drawing-room. He waited a little, with unpleasant misgivings, and his heart beating a trifle more rapidly than usual, and then felt a slight relief when Violet and her mother came in. The girl was dressed in a long robe of black that emphasized her pallor, but Appleby was reassured when he noticed her quiet composure.
“I felt that you would wish to see me, though I am afraid I can only cause you distress,” he said.
Mrs. Wayne pointed to a chair. “You have come a long way,” she said. “We appreciate the consideration for us that brought you.”
“I had business with Mr. Craythorne,” said Appleby, with a trace of embarrassment.
Then there was a silence he felt horribly unpleasant until Violet Wayne turned her eyes upon him.
“Will you tell us—everything—from the time you met Tony in Cuba? There is so much we wish to know,” she said quietly.
Appleby, who wished that the obligation had not been laid on him, commenced abruptly in disjointed sentences, but the memories crowded upon him as he proceeded, and he became oblivious of everything but the necessity of making the most of Tony’s part in them. The scenes he pictured became almost more real to him than when they were happening. He was once more in Cuba, and made his listeners see the sun-scorched hacienda, the long column crawling in the moonlight down the dim white road, the waves of dusky cane, and the glaring streets of Santa Marta. He felt they realized with him the tension of the silence until the rifles flashed, the flitting shadow that brushed through the cane, the tramp of weary feet, and the exultant shouts of the Sin Verguenza.
In the meanwhile the color appeared and faded in the girl’s face, while now and then her lips would tremble and again set tight. Then as he came to the last struggle on the veranda he saw a glow in her eyes, and felt her intent gaze draw the picture out of him. At last she sank back in her chair with a little gasp, and Appleby, who knew he had never spoken in that fashion before, felt suddenly nerveless and embarrassed. For almost a minute he sat staring vacantly in front of him, and then straightened himself with a little abrupt movement.
“I am afraid I have distressed you—but it seemed due to Tony that I should tell you this,” he said.
Violet slowly raised her head, and looked at him with hazy eyes. “I think we shall always be grateful—and you must have felt it—you were his friend,” she said. “I can’t ask the questions I wish to know—you will come back again?”