He took both her hands in his and drew her to him.
“Listen,” he said gently. “It’s all right about John. He is cleared absolutely. In a short time you will be together and all this will seem like a bad dream. Steady, now,” he added sharply, for the girl had swayed away from him and, for a second, he thought the news had been too much for her. But even as he spoke, a great rush of colour flooded her face and she drew herself erect.
“It can’t be true!” she whispered. “Say it again, Uncle Fayre. John, free!”
Her hands were on his shoulders and she almost shook him in her eagerness.
“John’s safe,” he repeated. “Edward has cleared him. I have come from Westminster now. Edward wants to speak to you. Can I ring him up now and tell him you will see him?”
“Of course. Tell him to come quick. Does John know?”
“Not yet. Grey will see him to-morrow.”
“Couldn’t the news be got to him to-night? It’s cruel to make him wait,” she pleaded.
Fayre shook his head.
“I’m afraid not. But you can ask Edward when he comes. Where’s your telephone?”