This sort of talk helped to beguile the nerves of the three young people while they waited for Turl to come. But as the hands of the clock neared the appointed minute, Edna's excitement returned, and Larcher found himself becoming fidgety. What Florence felt could not be divined, as she sat perfectly motionless, gazing into the fire. She had merely sent up a request to know if Mr. Turl could call at half-past eight, and had promptly received the desired answer.
In spite of Larcher's best efforts, a silence fell, which nobody was able to break as the moment arrived, and so it lasted till steps were heard in the hall, followed by a gentle rap on the door. Florence quickly rose and opened. Turl entered, with his customary subdued smile.
Before he had time to notice anything unnatural in the greeting of Larcher and Miss Hill, Florence had motioned him to one of the chairs near the fire. It was the chair at the extreme right of the group, so far toward a recess formed by the piano and a corner of the room that, when the others had resumed their seats, Turl was almost hemmed in by them and the piano. Nearest him was Florence, next whom sat Edna, while Larcher faced him from the other side of the fireplace.
The silence of embarrassment was broken by the unsuspecting visitor, with a remark about the storm. Instead of answering in kind, Florence, with her eyes bearing upon his face, said gravely:
“I asked you here to speak of something else—a matter we are all interested in, though I am far more interested than the others. I want to know—we all want to know—what has become of Murray Davenport.”
Turl's face blenched ever so little, but he made no other sign of being startled. For some seconds he regarded Florence with a steady inquiry; then his questioning gaze passed to Edna's face and Larcher's, but finally returned to hers.
“Why do you ask me?” he said, quietly. “What have I to do with Murray Davenport?”
Florence turned to Larcher, who thereupon put in, almost apologetically:
“You were in correspondence with him before his disappearance, for one thing.”
“Oh, was I?”