They followed him through the wide folding doors, with the little flutter of excitement that remained after the interruption. They felt as if they had been for a moment over the edge of an abyss, and were still hanging there, suspended by a very thin thread.
Faunce, however, obeyed Fanny’s signal and went toward the door, only to be halted by Dr. Gerry in the hall.
“It’s true, Faunce—you know it’s true. What d’you mean to do?” he demanded grimly.
Faunce leaned back against the door of the drawing-room, shielding himself by holding out a portière on a rigid arm, that the girls might not see his face as they came down-stairs.
“It can’t be true!” he reiterated passionately. “It can’t be true! It’s some horrid story, an attempt to ruin me.”
Gerry shook his head.
“I’ll wager it is true. Didn’t you think you saw figures? You supposed it was a mirage. It’s true, and it’s up to you!”
Faunce put his hand to his throat with a helpless gesture, like a man struggling to breathe.
“I tell you he was stark and freezing,” he gasped. “I swear it. He can’t have come back!”
The doctor laid his hand on Faunce’s shoulder.