“I’m afraid it must be done,” he declared.
Laura laid supper upon the table, and insisted that he should eat before she made any reference to the object she had in hand. Then, while he sat beside the stove with his clothes steaming, she looked at him steadily, and a little colour crept into her face.
“I wonder if you can guess why I sent for you?” she said.
“Where is your father?” Nasmyth asked abruptly.
“In Victoria. He left six days ago. I suppose he sent you no word that he was going.”
“No,” answered Nasmyth very dryly, “he certainly didn’t. I don’t think I could have expected it from him.”
He sat silent for almost a minute, looking at her with a troubled air, and though Laura was very quiet, her manner was vaguely suggestive of tension. It was Nasmyth who broke the silence.
“I believe you have something to tell me, Miss Waynefleet,” he said. “Still, I would sooner you didn’t, if it will hurt you. After all, it’s rather more than possible that I can arrive at the information by some other means.”
The tinge of colour grew plainer in Laura’s face, but it was evident that she laid a firm restraint upon herself. “Ah!” she cried, “it has hurt me horribly already. I can’t get over the shame of it. But that isn’t what I meant to speak of. I feel”––and her voice grew tense 292 and strained––“I must try to save you and the others from a piece of wicked treachery.”
She straightened herself, and there was a flash in her eyes, but Nasmyth raised one hand.