But Monroe in two strides was beside the table where it lay.
“Colonel McVeigh, even a prisoner of war should be granted some consideration, and all I ask of you is to show the article in question to no one without first granting me a private interview.”
Again the eyes of the men met and the sincerity, the appeal of Monroe impressed McVeigh; something might be gained by conceding the request––something lost by refusing it, and he slipped the case into his pocket without even looking at Judithe, or noticing her question.
But Monroe looked at her, and noted the quick resentment at his speech.
“Pardon, Madame,” he said, gently; “my only excuse is that there is a lady in the question.”
“A lady who is no longer living?” she asked, mockingly. She was puzzled over the affair of the picture, puzzled at the effect it had on McVeigh. In some way he was jealous concerning it––jealous, how absurd, when she adored him!
Monroe only looked at her, but did not reply to the sceptical query. Gertrude Loring came to the door just then and spoke to McVeigh, who went to meet her. She wanted him to go at once to her uncle. He was trying so hard to speak; they thought he was endeavoring to say “Ken––Ken!” It was the only tangible thing they could distinguish, and he watched the door continually as though for someone’s entrance.
McVeigh assured her he would go directly, but she begged him to postpone all the other business––anything! and to come with her at once; he might be dying, he looked like it, and there certainly was some one whom he wanted; therefore––
He turned with a semi-apologetic manner to the others in the room.