CHAPTER XIV
THE TRAGEDY DEEPENS
IT was a terrible and dismaying blow that had fallen so tragically upon the hopes of triumph and vindication. Herriard on his way to the Countess Alexia with the news—which had been sent to him at once—called at Gastineau’s, being anxious to gather every grain of hope there might be of making the best of this bitter disappointment.
“I have not come to worry you any more about Campion,” was Herriard’s greeting, with a short bitter laugh of discomfiture. “The poor fellow will never give evidence now. He is dead.”
Gastineau gave him a sharp glance of surprised enquiry. He was lying back in a state of greater listlessness than Herriard ever remembered to have seen in him since the first effects of the accident.
“Dead? How?”
Herriard told him. “It happened in Piccadilly, by the Green Park; within sight of Vaux House. And it is a bad blow for us, with all deference to your views.”
“I fear I must continue in disagreement with you,” Gastineau returned, with a confident smile. “I am of opinion that the cabman who knocked down the late Mr. Campion has unwittingly done your side a substantial service.”
Herriard took an impatient turn across the room. “Gastineau, you carry your opinion, your scepticism, too far. Surely between us you need not make such a point of maintaining it so obstinately.”
He spoke with a certain amount of heat, with the sense of disappointment stinging him doubly, in his heart and head.
As Gastineau’s eyes followed his impatient movement they seemed to laugh subtly. “If,” he said, “you will give the situation a moment’s calm thought, my dear Geof, you will see what I mean by suggesting that by this man’s death your client is no worse off, but, on the contrary, has gained an advantage.”