Then, with a sudden cry that startled me, she
cried out: "No, no--not that--not that!" And breaking from me,
fled up the stairs. I followed her, afraid that she was going to
faint. I found her leaning against the bannisters, deadly pale.
She waved me away impatiently.
"No, no--leave me. I'd rather be alone. Let me just be quiet
for a minute or two. Go down to the others."
I obeyed her reluctantly. John and Lawrence were in the
dining-room. I joined them. We were all silent, but I suppose I
voiced the thoughts of us all when I at last broke it by saying:
"Where is Mr. Inglethorp?"
John shook his head.
"He's not in the house."
Our eyes met. Where _was_ Alfred Inglethorp? His absence was
strange and inexplicable. I remembered Mrs. Inglethorp's dying
words. What lay beneath them? What more could she have told us,
if she had had time?
At last we heard the doctors descending the stairs. Dr. Wilkins
was looking important and excited, and trying to conceal an
inward exultation under a manner of decorous calm.
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