He lifted his head, showing her a ghastly face and pale trembling lips.
"Did Constance see Sybil? Does she know—" he broke off abruptly and half rising from his chair, stretched out to her an imploring hand.
"Mrs. Aliston," he said hoarsely. "I must see Constance. I must. For God's sake send her to me, just for one moment."
"But—" began Mrs. Aliston.
"I tell you I must see her," he cried, with sudden fierceness. "I shall go to her if there is no other way."
Great drops of sweat stood out on his forehead; once more he looked as he had two days before, when he stood alone under the trees of Wardour Place, after his parting with Constance.
Seeing that look upon his face, Mrs. Aliston went slowly towards the door.
"I will send Constance to you," she said gently and went out, closing the door softly.
When he was alone the look upon Francis Lamotte's face became fierce and set. Springing to his feet he paced the floor like a mad man.
"That letter," he hissed, "that accursed letter, what has it told? I must know! I must know the worst! blind fool that I was to let my own hand bring this about. Oh! this is horrible! Am I lost or—"