The day after the receipt of this letter Lilias came to town and took Valentine home with her. The next morning Mr. Paget went as usual to his office. His first inquiry was for news of the Esperance. The invariable answer awaited him.
"No tidings as yet."
He went into the snug inner room where he lunched, where Valentine's picture hung, and where he had made terms with Gerald Wyndham. He sank down into an easy-chair, and covered his face with his hands.
"Would to God this suspense were at an end," he said.
The words had scarcely passed his lips when Helps knocked for admission at the inner door, he opened it, caught a glimpse of his servant's face, and fell back.
"You heard," he said. "Come in and tell me quick. The Esperance is lost, and every soul on board——"
"Hush, sir," said Helps. "There's no news of the Esperance. Command yourself, sir. It isn't that—it's the other thing. The young gentleman from India, he's outside—he wants to see you."
"Good God, Helps. Positively I'm faint. Shut the door for a moment; he has come, then. You are sure?"
"This is his card, sir. Mr. George Carmichael."