And again Williamson scanned his master's face apprehensively.
"Ah, very sad," said Silwood, but he spoke in a strange, hollow tone, glancing the while at Williamson with a curious glittering light in his eyes that was sinister and menacing. It suddenly faded away, however, and he asked quite evenly, "Does he say when he is coming?"
"Oddly enough, sir, he gives no precise date. But here is his letter," said Williamson, picking it out from the pile on Silwood's table.
Silwood, knowing Williamson was watching him narrowly, and conscious that it was necessary to preserve an aspect of calmness, read Thornton's letter with the utmost deliberation and with no more concern than was natural in the pitiful circumstances of the case.
"Very sad, very sad," he said, when he had perused the letter, which he put down in front of him with elaborate carelessness; "very distressing!" he added, shaking his head.
There was a moment of silence, and then Silwood remarked to Williamson that he might go, but as the head-clerk was withdrawing he called him back.
"Has Mr. Eversleigh come in yet?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; a few minutes ago."
"Have you told him about this letter from Mr. Thornton?"
"No, sir."