“Is it all right, Mr. Ashton?”
“Quite right, Johnny. You did not think it could be wrong, did you?”
“You are out on bail?”
“Out for good. There has been no real damage done. I wonder where Jane is?”
“I’ll take you to her. She has been wishing she was dead.”
No one in the house scented his presence. I opened the door of the large oak-room. Jane was kneeling on the hearthrug, her face buried in the cushion of the arm-chair. She started up at the noise, and stood like one turned to stone.
“Robert?”
I do believe she thought it was not real—his ghost, or something. He went up in silence, slightly smiling—he was always a quiet-mannered man—and holding out his hand.
“It is I, myself, Jane. You look as though you doubted it.”
With a great cry she fell forward. Robert caught her to his breast. I was going away when he hastily called to me. For the first time in her life she had fainted away. The thing had been too much for her.