And Lord St. Amant, hastening forward, stared with a mixture of curiosity and horror at the still figure, and answered, "Yes. I—I think there's no doubt about it's being Pavely."
"Perhaps you'd better go and tell Mrs. Winslow. Get her away as quick as you can. I must telephone at once for one of our doctors."
Lord St. Amant turned without a word, and made his way through the still open door into the queer, rather dark passage.
Katty's face was still full of the strain and anguish of suspense, but she knew the truth by now. Had nothing been found, some one would have come rushing out at once to tell her so. Three or four minutes had elapsed since she had heard the sudden hush, the ominous silence, which had fallen over them all, in there.
Her lips formed the words: "Then—they've found him?"
And Lord St. Amant nodded gravely. "It looks as if that Portuguese chap had told the simple truth."
"The moment that I read the letter this morning I knew that it was true," she muttered. Then, "I suppose I'd better go away now? They don't want me here."
She began walking towards the lift, and Lord St. Amant, following, felt very sorry for her. "Look here," he said earnestly, "I'm sure you don't wish to go straight back to poor Laura Pavely? Why should you? 'Twould only rack you. I suppose——" He stopped a moment, and she looked up at him questioningly.
"Yes, Lord St. Amant—what is it you suppose?"
Katty spoke in a cold, hard voice—all her small affectations had fallen away from her.