He asked sharply, “By the way, where’s your husband?”
“He’s with the Robeys. I preferred to come here alone.”
She followed him into the dining-room.
“This is Mr. Reynolds,—Mr. Reynolds, my cousin Mrs. Blake!” He waited uncomfortably, impatiently, while they shook hands, and then: “I’m afraid you’re going to have a shock——” he exclaimed, and, suddenly softening, looked at her with a good deal of concern in his face. “There’s very little doubt, Rose, that Anna Bauer is guilty.”
“I’m sure she’s not,” said Rose stoutly. She looked across at the stranger. “You must forgive me for speaking like this,” she said, “but you see old Anna was my nurse, and I really do know her very well.”
As she glanced from the one grave face to the other, her own shadowed. “Is it very very serious?” she asked, with a catch in her clear voice.
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.”
“Oh, James, do try and get leave for me to see her to-night—even for only a moment.”
She turned to the other man; somehow she felt that she had a better chance there. “I have been in great trouble lately,” she said, in a low tone, “and but for Anna Bauer I don’t know how I should have got through it. That is why I feel I must go to her now in her trouble.”