Gaylor struggled to conceal his surprise and satisfaction. “You won’t be here for the seance?” he exclaimed.
“Certainly not,” cried Winthrop. “I—” He broke off suddenly. Without again looking toward Vera, or trying to hide his displeasure, he left the room.
Gaylor turned to the girl. He was smiling with relief.
“Excellent!” he muttered. “Excellent! What was he saying to you,” he asked eagerly, “as I came in—that you would fail?”
The girl moved past him to the door. “Yes,” she answered dully.
“But you will not!” cried the man. “We’re all counting on you, you know. Destroy the old will. Sign the new will,” he quoted. He came close to her and whispered. “That means thousands of dollars to you and Vance,” he urged.
The girl turned and regarded him with unhappy, angry eyes.
“You need not be frightened,” she answered. For the man before her and for herself, her voice was bitter with contempt and self-accusation. “Mr. Winthrop is mistaken. He does not know me,” she said miserably. “I shall not fail.”
For a moment, after she had left him, Gaylor stood motionless, his eyes filled with concern, and then, with a shrug, as though accepting either good or evil fortune, he called from the bedroom Mr. Hallowell, and, from the floor below, the guests of Hallowell and of Vance.
As Hallowell, supported by Rainey, sank into the invalid’s chair in the centre of the semicircle, Gaylor made his final appeal.