Ella swung her head contemptuously.
“You told Roderick yourself to-day that Uncle Matthew had only a slight cold.”
“The lying devil!” cried Sylvester, with one of his rare blazes of anger. “Read that.”
He drew a telegram from his pocket, and handed it to her.
“Mr. Lanyons condition critical. May not live through
night. For God's sake come back at once and bring Miss
Defries with you. Simmons
She returned it without a word, and stood with both hands pressed closely to her temples, in an awful convulsion of soul. Roderick's lie blazed before her eyes in letters of fire. It was blazoned upon the walls of the station. It reddened the pale glare of the electric light. It was a magnesium flame illuminating the innermost darkness of the man's heart. Roderick's mystery was a mystery no longer.
“Let us go,” she said at last faintly.
They walked silently, side by side, to the end of the platform. There was the same eternal scurrying of eager feet. A train had just arrived at another platform, and the crowd of passengers were streaming through the gate on to the open space. Nothing in the outer world had changed during the past hour. But Ella was filled with a vague wonder that universal chaos did not prevail around her. She followed Sylvester in a state of dream, to be aroused to practical effort by his voice.
“This is your cab. Where would you care to be driven to?”
She collected her faculties. Pride rose in arms against betrayal of weakness.