In her agitation, she laid her hand upon the arm of her strange visitor, but the young woman freed herself, and advanced towards the door.
“I can understand and sympathise with you,” she said in a faltering voice. “But please do not press me, it is useless. I am under the most solemn promise to say no more. You must wait and be patient.” In another moment she had left the room, leaving poor Sheila bewildered and tearful.
Austin Wingate came later, was told of the strange visitor, and shown the message which had been contained in the photograph.
He took her in his aims and kissed her fondly. “My darling, you must still be brave and patient,” he said tenderly.
She looked up at him with her sweet smile. “I have waited so long, Austin, I can wait a little longer, always providing that you are here to comfort me.”
Wingate did not leave her till late in the afternoon. The day was too far advanced for him to return to his office. He strolled to the Wellington Club.
Just as he was going in, he caught sight of Farloe. He took a sudden resolve, and went up to the secretary, who did not seem too pleased to see him.
“Good-day, Mr Farloe. May I walk with you a little way? There is something I should like to ask you.”
The young man assented, but by no means with a good grace. They had taken an instinctive dislike to each other from the first. They walked together in silence for a few paces, and then Wingate suddenly blurted out:
“What has become of Reginald Monkton? I know you could tell us, if you chose.”