CHAPTER XXXVIII
When Latham returned to the library he found Helen sitting by the writing-table, one hand lying idly and resting on the jade paper weight. He spoke to her, and she looked up and smiled at him rather vacantly, but she said nothing. He gave her a sharp look, and then picked up a magazine and sat down, pretending to read.
She sat very still. She seemed resting—and though he watched her, he decided not to disturb her, to make no effort to arouse her.
And so they sat without a word until Hugh came back. Latham looked round in surprise, but Helen scarcely seemed to notice.
“An hour’s reprieve,” Hugh said lightly. “Awfully decent chap in there. Knew him at the front. He’ll make it as comfortable for me as he can. I’ve told Barker to do him uncommonly well. And now, to search this room in earnest!”
Stephen followed his brother into the library. “Some one has given you away, Hugh,” he said sorrowfully. “The soldiers knew you were here, when they came—the sergeant was so positive that all my denials were useless. Who could it have been?”
“Don’t you know, Stephen?” Helen said softly, rising—the Joss in her hand, but not even glancing at Pryde.
“How on earth would Stephen know?” Hugh said, going to his brother.
Stephen put out his hand. “I—I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Hugh.”
Hugh smiled at the elder. “I know, old boy, I know. And I’m not worrying. It’ll come all right.”