She made a valiant attempt to conjure up her pretty, winning smile, but her lips began to tremble.
"I don't know!" she said shyly and softly; then in a sudden burst of confidence she stepped close to him. "Clo doesn't like me to go in," she murmured. "She thinks it makes me sad to see father; and I don't know where to go. I'd be in Hannah's way in the kitchen, and I don't like being with Aunt Fan, and—and I'm frightened to be by myself. There's a horrid sort of feel in the house."
Her dark blue eyes searched Milbanke's face appealingly; and with a sensation of pity and protection, he stooped and took one of her cold, limp hands.
"You may come in," he said gently. "It is very lonely out here. I think we can make Clodagh understand."
Without hesitation her fingers closed round his in a movement of confidence and gratitude, and together they passed into the room where Asshlin lay peacefully under the influence of the narcotic administered by Molyneaux. By Gallagher's orders the nurse—who had been deprived of her necessary rest in the morning—had retired to her room again in preparation for the night, and only Clodagh was in attendance. Having quietly closed the door, Milbanke halted hesitatingly, expecting a flood of questions. But to his intense surprise she did not even glance in his direction. She sat motionless and pale, her eyes on her father's face, her attitude stiff and almost defiant. He wondered for a moment whether, by the power of instinct, she had divined Molyneaux's verdict, or whether, through some source unknown to him, the news of it had already reached her. With a sense of trepidation, he tightened his fingers round Nance's small hand, and drew her silently into a corner of the room.
For more than an hour the three watchers sat regarding their patient. No one attempted to speak—no one appeared to have anything to say. Once or twice Mrs. Asshlin flitted agitatedly in and out of the room, but none of them took heed of her presence. Occasionally a clock struck in the silent house or a cinder fell from the fire, causing them all to start nervously. But, except for these interruptions, the quiet was preternatural.
It was with a throb of relief at his heart that Milbanke at last caught the sound of Gallagher's horse trotting up the avenue, and knew by the shutting of the hall door that the doctor had entered the house.
He walked into the sick-room a few minutes later, and with a casual nod to all present, moved at once to the bed.
Bending over Asshlin, he felt his pulse, then glanced significantly at Milbanke, who had risen on his entrance.
"I think we must inject a stimulant," he said. "The pulse is a little weak."