Mary turned on her in a flash.
“Liz,” she cried; but David stood between.
“It’s none of your business, Elizabeth. You keep out of it.” The tone was kinder than the words.
Elizabeth was silent. She drew away, and did not speak again.
“I’ll do it on one condition,” said David Blake. “You’d better go and tell Edward at once. I don’t want to see him. I don’t suppose he’s been talking to any one—it’s not exactly likely—but if he has the matter’s out of my hands. I’ll not touch it. If he hasn’t, and you’ll all hold your tongues, I’ll do it.”
He turned to the door and Mary cried: “Won’t you write it now? Won’t you sign it before you go?”
David laughed grimly.
“Do you think I go about with my pockets full of death certificates?” he said. Then he was gone, and the door shut to behind him.
Elizabeth moved, and spoke.
“I will tell Markham that you are ready to go home,” she said.