“My dear sir, I am happy to tell you that your wife is out of danger.”
Gaunt staggered, fell back and clutched wildly at the chair. Sir Felix ran to the table and brought a glass of brandy.
“Drink this. Ah! That’s better. Now you must go to bed. A good sleep and you will be all right.”
Still Gaunt did not speak. His eyes had a vacant look and his lips were tremulous.
“Thank you, Sir Felix. Don’t stay any longer. It was good of you to come. Good-night.”
“Take my advice and go to bed. Good-night,” Sir Felix said drily.
John Gaunt never knew how long he rested there motionless, save for the twitching of his limbs. There was much to be thought out. His wife would live. God had decided the issue, and now there was his own side of the bargain to be fulfilled.
His quick mind told him what the vow meant—the upheaval of his life—the changing of everything—“red rubber” must go—the Amanti deal—everything must be different.
Could he carry out what he had promised—honestly, and completely?
Suddenly his face cleared and he rose. There was a steady light in his eyes and his lips were pressed firmly together.