“I can’t see anyone! I won’t!” The haggard lines deepened about Storm’s mouth. “In Heaven’s name, can’t they respect my—my grief? I’m going upstairs. George, you get rid of them. Send them away, whoever they are!”
But George did not send them away. Listening from above, Storm heard the front door open and close, heard George’s low rumble, and a reply in higher but softly modulated feminine tones. Then came a masculine voice which made him grip the stair rail in sudden fury not unmixed with consternation.
Richard Brewster! It couldn’t be; the fellow would not dare intrude his presence here, even though he fancied his secret unshared by any living soul! But that was unmistakably Julie’s voice raised in almost tearful pleading, and then Brewster spoke again.
What had brought them here? Why didn’t George get rid of them as he had been told to do? Could it be that Julie had discovered the truth of her husband’s unfaithfulness, and with a woman’s hysterical notion of justice had brought Brewster here to force his confession to the man he had wronged? It was evident from the sounds that reached his ears that George was showing them into the library, was taking it upon himself to disregard Storm’s express commands. Damn them all! Why couldn’t they let him alone?
A brief colloquy ensued, and then George mounted the stairs.
“Look here!” he began in a sepulchral whisper. “It’s the Brewsters, Norman, and I think you ought to see them for a minute. There’s something they want to tell you——”
“I don’t want to hear it!” interrupted Storm fiercely. “Good God, man, can’t you see I’m in no condition to listen to a lot of vapid condolences? I told you to send them away!”
“I would have done so, but I think you ought to let them tell you,” George insisted with the meek, unyielding tenacity which the other man had always found exasperating. “Julie Brewster is terribly wrought up; she says that in justice to—to Leila’s memory you must hear what she has to say.”
In justice to Leila’s memory! Storm gave a sudden, involuntary start. There could be no ambiguity about that phrase. With a feeling as if the world were crashing down about his ears, he thrust George unceremoniously aside and descended the stairs.
They were standing side by side on the hearth rug awaiting him, Julie in tears but with her face bravely lifted to his, Brewster meeting his eyes without a tremor.