Evelyn laid down her book and left the room. Ralph sauntered back into the morning-room, where we heard him beguiling his solitude with a few chords on the piano.
Presently Evelyn returned. She was pale even to the lips, and her voice faltered as she said:
"She has not gone to bed, for there is a light in her room; but she would not answer when I knocked, and the door is locked."
"All of which circumstances are not sufficient to make you as white as a ghost," said Charles. "I think even if Aurelia has a headache, you would bear the occurrence with fortitude. My dear child, you do not act so well off the stage as on it. There is something on your mind. People don't upset water at dinner, and refuse all food except pellets of pinched bread, for nothing. What is it?"
Evelyn sank into a chair, and covered her face with her trembling hands.
"Yes, I thought so," said Charles, kneeling down by her, and gently withdrawing her hands. "Come, Evelyn, what is it?"
"I dare not say." And she turned away her face, and tried to disengage her hands, but Charles held them firmly.
"Is it about what happened last night?" he asked, in a tone that was kind, but that evidently intended to have an answer.
"Yes."
"And do you know that I am suspected?"