“I know Jean will agree with me,” said Harry Garlett obstinately.
“Give her a chance of hearing the other side, man. Damn it all! You do owe me something——”
He turned toward the door. “I’ll telephone my wife to bring the girl up to-night.” Without waiting for the other’s assent he left the room.
Then, for he was an upright man, and not given to deceiving himself, Dr. Maclean stayed his steps for a moment on the big, empty hotel landing.
He was asking himself whether, after all, Harry Garlett might not be taking the right course in settling this painful, degrading question once for all. He had felt, in spite of the courtesy, nay, the kindness, with which he had been treated at the Home Office, that an uncomfortable suspicion did still linger in the minds of the two men with whom he had had his difficult interview. Deep in his heart he was well aware that it was the fortunate accident of his old acquaintance with that now important government official, Donald Wilson, coupled, of course, with his own absolute conviction that Mrs. Garlett had died a natural death, which had achieved what at the moment had seemed such a triumph.
It was five hours later. The hotel sitting room was in darkness, save that no uncurtained room in London is ever really dark, and there was also a little fire in the black grate. But no one coming in casually would have seen the two who sat on the sofa hand in hand.
As soon as Jean and her aunt had arrived, there had begun the painful, difficult consultation—if, indeed, consultation it could be called, for Jean and the man she loved had listened in silence while the doctor and Mrs. Maclean tried to dissuade Harry Garlett from taking the course he meant to pursue.
At last, after having used every conceivable argument, husband and wife got up together.
“Let us go down and have a little supper,” said the doctor. “After that you two shall come up here alone and talk it over. Don’t be in too great a hurry to make up your mind, Harry. Weigh everything, and, above all, remember that ‘What’s done can’t be undone.’”
And now at last they were alone together. For a while neither of them spoke, and then Harry Garlett said quietly, “Your uncle has made me see one thing, my dearest. That I ought to leave the decision with you.”