“Yes, I fear we shall want you.” The men stood aside while she went away, her head bowed down under the weight of her veil. But Robert Tredgold opposed her departure. He caught her by the cloak and held her back. “Stop here,” he said, “stop here; if you don’t stop here none of them will pay any attention to me.”
“You fool!” cried the lawyer, pushing him out of the way, “what have you got to say to it? Take up your bag, and mind your business; the will is nothing to you.”
“Don’t speak to him so,” cried Katherine. “You are all so well off and he is poor. And never mind,” she said, touching for a moment with her hand the arm of that unlovely swaying figure, “I will see that you are provided for, whether it is in the will or not. Don’t have any fear.”
The lawyer followed her with his eyes, with a slight shrug of his shoulders and shake of his head. Dr. Burnet met her at the door as she went away.
“They have sent for me,” he said; “I don’t know why. Is there anything wrong? Can I be of any use?”
“I know of nothing wrong. They want to consult you, but I don’t understand on what subject. It is a pity they should think it’s necessary to go on with their business to-day.”
“They have to go back to town,” he said.
“Yes, to be sure, I suppose that is the reason,” she answered, and with a slight inclination of her head she walked away.
But no one spoke for a full minute after the doctor joined them; they stood about in the much gilded, brightly decorated room, in the outer portion outside that part which Katherine had separated for herself. Her table, with its vase of flowers, her piano, the low chair in which she usually sat, were just visible within the screen. The dark figures of the men encumbered the foreground between the second fireplace and the row of long windows opening to the ground. Mr. Sturgeon stood against one of these in profile, looking more than ever like some strange bird, with his projecting spectacles and long neck and straggling beard and hair.
“You sent for me, I was told,” Dr. Burnet said.