“What is it? Father—? Oh, Cousin Belle, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Hush, calm yourself! My news has nothing to do with your immediate family.” Mrs. Meredith was not to be hurried. “Turn up that bed light, Lucille; I cannot talk in the dark.”
Bending sideways the girl pushed the button of the reading lamp. Its adjusted shade threw the light over the bed, but her face remained in shadow. “Go on,” she urged. “Go on!”
“Your Cousin John has—has—committed suicide.”
With a convulsive bound the girl swung herself out of bed.
“W-what?” she stammered. “W-what are you saying? Cousin John a suicide?”
“Yes.”
She stared at Mrs. Meredith for a full second. “Did he kill himself?” she asked, in little above a whisper.
Mrs. Meredith nodded. “His dead body was found in the hall near the staircase early this morning,” she said. “It has shocked me unutterably.”
“Cousin John dead! I cannot believe it. It is dreadful.” Lucille spoke as one stunned. She covered her eyes with her hand in an attitude of prayer, then rose and walked over to the windows and raised the shades until the bedroom was flooded with light.