"They were on the eve of action, Emily," he presently said. "Just going into it when Thomas wrote this. Some local engagement."
"Is it well over?"
"I hope so. But he closed this letter at once. Here is what he says in conclusion: 'I shall drop this into the post now, and if I come out of the turmoil safely, give you a second note to say so. That is, if the post should not have gone: if it has, you must wait another fortnight.' Where's the evening paper?" added Mr. Chandos, seeking out a newspaper which had come with the letters, and tearing it open. "News of this action, however unimportant it was, ought to have come by telegraph."
He had scarcely said this when Hill came in, speaking and looking like one in alarm. I thought of the police; I fancy Mr. Chandos did.
"Sir—Mr. Harry—my lady wishes you to come to her instantly."
He appeared aroused by the tone—or the looks—and went out at once, opening the sheets of the newspaper as he did so. Madame de Mellissie demanded of Hill what he was wanted for.
"I hardly know what, ma'am. Something very sad, I fear, has happened."
Emily started to her feet. "Hill, that letter never contained bad news from India?—from Sir Thomas?"
"It has got bad news of some sort in it, for certain," was Hill's rejoinder. "My lady gave a great scream before she had read three lines, and said some confused words about her 'darling son Thomas.' The fear upon me, ma'am, is, that he has been hurt in battle."
Worse than that! worse than that! It came upon me with a prevision as I thought of the black seal and the strange handwriting. Emily, impulsive in all she did, went running up to the west wing. While I waited alone for them to return with some news, good or bad, I heard Mrs. Penn come in and accost Lizzy Dene, who was rubbing the brasses in the hall.