"You here, Marion! I got your telegram on the boat."
"I was afraid it might miss you, so I thought it safer to come myself."
"What extraordinary story is this? I can scarcely believe you were serious when you wired me yesterday from Rugby."
"I was in no humour for jesting," she said. "This is no place to talk in. Wait until we get to the hotel."
When they were seated in Mrs. Davenport's sitting-room, he waited for her to speak. She was in the arm of the couch--he by the table, with his elbow resting on it. They were facing one another. She clasped her hands in her lap and rested against the back of the couch. She was deadly pale, and when she spoke her voice was low, firm, and full of thought.
"I want you to tell me all you know about this man Fahey. Mind, you are to tell me all. There is no use in concealing anything now. I will not take a penny of that money. Speak plainly."
"Not take the money, Marion! Are you mad?" he exclaimed, starting forward on his chair.
"Not yet. The future of my reason will depend a good deal on the plainness of your speech. Go on."
"But I have told you all that is worth telling."
"Tell it to me all over again, and this time add everything, great or little, you can think of, you can recollect. Let me judge what is worth listening to, and what is not. I am waiting."