Then, catching sight of the pearl and emerald pendant John had given her, she snatched it violently from her breast and hurled it into the hearth. It would have given her infinite pleasure at that moment to have murdered John by slow and excruciating torture. Her thoughts were still seething, when the dejected hotel waiter knocked at her door and announced in plaintive tones that dinner awaited her.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Next morning, at twelve o'clock, Doctor Voules sat at the big oak table in his dining-room at Brooke. He had arrived from London in the morning, and was busy consuming a heavy lunch.
The brightness of the day before had vanished; a heavy driving rain was falling. From the single window of the apartment the doctor could obtain a view of drenched foliage in his garden. And, sharp to the left, as one stood at the window, a view of the sea, grey and restless beneath a leaden sky, was visible.
The doctor ate stolidly, grinding his food in heavy, powerful jaws. The only other occupant of the room was Captain Cherriton, who lounged in a chair at the hearth and read a morning newspaper assiduously. Beside him, on the floor, lay four or five other morning news-sheets.
For many minutes, save the drive of the rain and the chink of Voules's knife and fork, no sound broke the stillness of the room. Then Voules turned his chair, took out a cigar and lit it.
"The barometer is falling, Rathenau," he said in his grating, imperious voice—quite another voice from that which he assumed as the bland Doctor Voules.
"It is going down steadily, Excellenz," answered Cherriton.
"Good," returned the elder man. "We must have unsettled weather for the twenty-eighth—eh, Rathenau?"
"It is much to be desired, Excellenz."