He would have it that way, but it was rather hard for me." Durrance said nothing in reply, but gave her in full measure what she most needed, the sympathy of his silence.

He imagined those hours in the passage, six hours of twilight and darkness; he could picture her standing close by the door, with her ear perhaps to the panel, and her hand upon her heart to check its loud beating.

There was something rather cruel, he thought, in Dermod's resolve to die alone.

It was Ethne who broke the silence.
"I said that my father spoke to me just before he told me to leave him.
Of whom do you think he spoke ?" She was looking directly at Durrance as she put the question.

From neither her eyes nor the level tone of her voice could he gather anything of the answer, but a sudden throb of hope caught away his breath.
"Tell me!" he said, in a sort of suspense, as he leaned forward in his chair.
"Of Mr.Feversham," she answered, and he drew back again, and rather suddenly.