Scoffold stopped and looked at the doctor; the latter slowly nodded his head. So it came about that Scoffold rang the bell, and on the coming of the servant requested that Miss Debora should be asked to step that way. After the man had retired, and while we waited in a grim silence for the coming of Debora, I felt my cheeks begin to flame; almost it seemed as though I felt again the sharp tingling pain where she had lashed me across the face.
When the door opened at last the girl came in quickly. She walked straight towards where the doctor stood, and spoke at once impulsively.
"Oh, I am so sorry—so very sorry!" she said. "How did it happen? Have you found out who did it?"
Bardolph Just did not speak; he simply looked at me. Following the direction of his eyes, she turned also and looked at me. I saw her draw herself up with that quick little lift of her chin; I saw a dawning smile in the doctor's eyes.
"What is that man doing here?" she asked.
"He came, my dear Debora, with a purpose—a purpose which he has partly accomplished. My broken wrist tells its own tale; had he had his way, I should probably not be speaking to you now."
"Had he had his way, Miss Debora," I blurted out, "you would be lying dead somewhere in this house—as the result of an accident!"
I saw her face blanch; she turned furtive, frightened eyes for a moment on the doctor. He shook his head, with a lifting of the eyebrows which seemed to suggest that he left such a mad accusation to be judged properly by her; and she flashed round on me.
"I don't believe it—I don't believe a word of it!" she said.
"Thank you, my dear child," said Bardolph Just. "I might have known what your answer would be."