“Yes,” answered Curtis as the pause lengthened. “Yes?”
“You are going through with the ceremony?”
Curtis turned his head and looked up with sightless eyes in Armstrong’s face.
“Certainly. May I ask what affair it is of yours?”
“None,” hastily. “But you don’t know Anne—”
“I do.”
“Oh, yes, you know that she is the only daughter of Mrs. Marshall Meredith and the niece and reputed heiress of John Meredith, millionaire banker,” Armstrong’s usually pleasant voice was harsh and discordant. “As to the girl herself—you are marrying Anne, sight unseen.”
With a bound Curtis was on his feet and Armstrong winced under the grip of his fingers about his throat.
“Stand still!” The command was issued between clenched teeth. “I won’t hurt you, you fool!” Shifting his grip Curtis ran his sensitive fingers over Armstrong’s face and brow. He released him with such suddenness that Armstrong, who had stood passive more from surprise than any other motive, staggered back. “Go to bed!”
Armstrong hesitated; then without further word, whirled around and sped from the library.