The long hour that had seemed like a life-time to the wife—the widow—how could they bring themselves to think of her as such?—had left no outward traces upon Monica. Her face was calm and still, and very pale, but it was not convulsed by grief, and her eyes did not look as though they had shed tears, although there was no hardness in their depths. They shone with something of star-like brightness, at once soft and brilliant. The sweet serenity that had long been the habitual expression of her face seemed intensified rather than changed.
“Beatrice,” she said quietly, “where is your brother?”
“We must inquire. He has been so many hours gone. I am uneasy about him.”
“Oh, never mind about him,” said Beatrice, quickly. “He will be all right.”
“We must think of him,” she answered. “Tom, it was good of you to come back. What brought you? Did you hear?”
“I heard a rumour. Of course I came back. Is there anything I can do?” He spoke abruptly, like a man labouring under some weight of oppression.
“I wish you would go and inquire for Lord Haddon. Randolph sent him to the life-boat station, because he believed he would ride over faster than anybody else. I think he should be followed now, if he has not come back. I cannot think what can have detained him so long.”
“I will go and make inquiries,” said Tom.
“Thank you. I should be much obliged if you would.”
But as it turned out, there was no need for him to do this. Even as Monica spoke they became aware of a slight stir in the hall. Uncertain, rapid steps crossed the intervening space, and the next moment Haddon stood before them in the doorway, white, drenched, dishevelled, exhausted, leaning as if for support against the framework, whilst his eyes sought those of his sister with a strange look of dazed horror.
“Beatrice!” he cried, in a strained, unnatural tone. “Say it is not true!”
Monica had stepped forward, anxious and startled at his appearance. The look upon her face must have brought conviction home to Haddon’s heart, and this terrible conviction completed the work begun by previous over-fatigue and exhaustion. He made two uncertain steps forward, looked round him in a dazed bewildered way; then putting his hand to his head with a sudden gesture as of pain, called out: