"Please, Mr. Byrd," I was startled to hear a tearful, childish voice behind me—"won't you see the children before you go, sir?"
I wheeled about sharply.
"The children? Oh, yes—no!" The horror of the situation fell about me like an avalanche that had hung suspended for a moment and then crashed smotheringly over me. "No," I whispered huskily, "I can't—not now—not now!" A kind of chill darkness numbed my senses.
Like a pistol shot I suddenly heard the harsh voice of Griselda in the doorway.
"The cab is at the door, Mr. Randolph. Don't forget your rubbers."
And like an automaton galvanized into life I found myself whirling to the house of death.
CHAPTER IV
For a week the children have been with me and nothing has yet been done about them. Another week, I think, will drive me mad with indecision.
I seem unable to emerge from the shadow of mystery and terror into which my serene world has been so suddenly plunged. The book-lined study is my solitary refuge; and like a schoolgirl I can do no more than unpack my heart with words.
I have seen Gertrude.