"Who is to tell Sir Victor?" the butler repeats. "It will kill him—the horror of it. So pretty and so young—so sweet and so good. Oh, how could they do it—how could they do it!"
She tries to speak once more—it seems as though her white lips cannot shape the words. Old Hooper looks up at her piteously.
"Tell us what is to be done, Miss Inez," he implores; "you are mistress here now."
She shrinks as if he had struck her.
"Shall we send for Sir Victor first?"
"Yes," she says, in a sort of whisper, "send for Sir Victor first."
The voice in which she speaks is not the voice of Inez Catheron. The butler looks at her, that great fear in his eyes.
"You haven't seen her, Miss Inez," he says. "It is a fearful sight—but—will you come down?"
He almost dreads a refusal, but she does not refuse.
"I will go down," she answers, and turns at once to go.