Blayney laid a finger to his lips and went out. The gesture might have meant anything. With trembling hand Richard seized the glass of water and drained it at a gulp. There was miserably little—it barely cooled the heat of his throat. Whimpering he set the glass down and lifted the cover from the plate. Underneath was a cube of bread the size of a lump of sugar. With a savage cry he picked it up and flung it across the room but a moment later was on all fours gathering up the broken bits and pieces and eating them wolfishly.
Blayney found him searching pathetically for the last crumb when he came stealthily into the room and put a tin mug on the table.
"I'll collect that twenty later," he said and vanished.
Almost like a miser Richard took the mug in his hands and purred over it possessively. With a sigh of absolute content he raised it to his lips. Then a scream broke from him—harsh, strident, savage. There were no soft spots in the walls of Hugo Van Diest's fortress. The water was salt.
CHAPTER 19.
AT THE CHESTNUTS.
Mrs. Barraclough was one of those old ladies who are constantly being surprised. She courted surprise. She never forestalled a climax and of the hundreds of sensational novels which she so greedily devoured never once was she guilty of taking a premature peep at the last chapter to ensure herself that right would triumph. "I shall find out all about it in good time" was the motto she affected. This being so she made no effort to secure Isabel's confidence but simply waited for Isabel to speak. The same reticence possessed her in the matter of the four mysterious serving girls. She hadn't the smallest idea why Anthony had suddenly transformed himself into a domestic agency although, at the back of her head, she guessed at a deep underlying motive. It gratified her beyond measure to be surrounded by unfathomed waters and frequently as a corollary to her prayers she would thank God for the little excitements and mysteries He sent to flavour her declining years.
After the uncontrollable rush of tears on her arrival Isabel pulled herself together and made a show of gaiety and preserved it nobly for nearly three weeks. Anthony had gone and gloomy forebodings were of no service. Accordingly she helped Mrs. Barraclough in the garden and made the very best friends of the four girls. Perhaps she was the least bit resentful on finding out that they knew almost as much of Anthony's plans as she herself.
"But did he tell you?" she asked in surprise.
"It's like this," said Flora who generally spoke for the company. "Jane and myself were with him in the Secret Service during the last year of the war."