Something in Johnson’s expression caught Claudia’s eye and made her certain that she knew something.
“Johnson, is anything amiss? Is Pat ill or had an accident?” Pat was the sort of wild, careless person one always associates with possible accidents.
“No, madam, I—I should think it must be about Mr. Jack. It’s all in the papers this morning. I thought you couldn’t know anything about it.”
“Jack’s had an accident, then?” said Claudia, paling, for in her way she was fond of him. “Is it very bad—tell me quick, Johnson.”
“Madam,” gasped the woman, “it’s not exactly an accident—I mean—oh! madam, let your mother tell you.”
Suddenly Claudia remembered Mrs. Rivington’s words of the previous evening. It was true, then. That could be the only thing which would give Jack prominence in the papers.
“All right, Johnson, don’t look so frightened. I think I know. He’s got married, hasn’t he? All right, ring up my mother and put me through. And fetch me a newspaper, quick. Do that first, before you ring up. Do you understand?”
“It’s here, madam; I thought perhaps——”
Claudia tore it open with shaking fingers, and Billie rubbed his head against her arm in vain. A few minutes ago she would have said, “What did it matter what a young fool like Jack did?” Now she realized that she was furiously angry, ridiculously angry. If he had married this awful woman—Ah!