"Dear, Mr. Williams comes to-morrow. They have given him a fortnight's holiday. He has had a sharp attack of illness and depression, and wants change. Will you feel it too long?"
Involuntarily her look darkened. She put down the letter without reading it.
"Why—I want to see him! I—I shall make a study of him," she said with some constraint.
But by this time Helbeck was half through the contents of his next envelope. She heard an exclamation of disgust, and he threw down what he held with vehemence.
"One can trust nobody!" he said—"nobody!"
He began to pace the floor with angry energy, his hands thrust into his pockets. She—in astonishment—threw him questions which he hardly seemed to hear. Suddenly he paused.
"Dear Laura!—will you forgive me?—but after all I must sell that picture!"
"Why?"
"I hear to-day, for the first time, who is to be the real purchaser of that land, and why it is wanted. It is to be the site of a new Anglican church and vicarage. I have been tricked throughout—tricked—and deceived! But thank God it is not too late! The circumstances of this afternoon were providential. There is still time for me to write to Whinthorpe." He glanced at the clock. "And my lawyers may tear up the contract when they please!"
"And—that means—you will sell the Romney?" said Laura slowly.