The incidents of the day, so far as she was concerned, appeared to be at an end.

CHAPTER XI

HALF-PAST ONE IN THE MORNING

Nothing now held Mr. Ransom to his room.  The two women in whose fate he was so nearly concerned, his sister-in-law and his wife, had both retired and there was no other eye he feared.  Indeed, he courted an interview with the lawyer, if only it could be naturally obtained; and he had little reason to think it could not.  So he went down-stairs.

In a moment he seemed to have passed from the realm of dreams to that of reality.  Here was no mystery.  Here was life as he knew it.  Walking boldly into the office, he ran his eye over the half-dozen men who sat there and, picking out the lawyer from the rest, sauntered easily up to him and sat down.

“My name is Johnston,” said he.  “I’m from New York; like yourself, I believe.”

The lawyer, with a twinkle in his light-blue eye, answered with a cordial nod; and in two minutes a lively conversation had begun between them on purely impersonal subjects suited to the intelligence of the crowd they were in.  This did not last, however.  An opportunity soon came for them to stroll off together, and presently Mr. Ransom found himself closeted with this man who he had reason to believe was the sole holder of the key to the secret which was devouring him.

A bottle of wine was on the table between them, and some cigars.  As Mr. Ransom filled the two glasses, he spoke: 

“I have to thank you—­” he began, but saw immediately that he had made a wrong start.

“For what, Mr. Johnston?” asked the other coldly.

“For giving me this opportunity to speak alone with you,” Ransom explained with a nervous gesture.  “An hour of unrestrained gossip is so necessary to me after a day of hard work.  Perhaps you don’t know that I am an author—­have been one for seven whole hours.  I find it exhausting.  You could give me great relief by talking a little on some foreign subject, say on the one now engrossing every one in the house, the twin ladies from New York.  You were in the same coach with them.  Did they quarrel and did the most wilful of the two insist on getting out at the foot of the hill and walking up through the lane?”

“I doubt if I have anything to say to Mr. Johnston on this subject,” was the wary reply.

“What if he added another name to the Johnston?”

“It would make no appreciable difference.  The driver is a loquacious fellow, talk to him.”

Mr. Ransom felt his heart fail him.  He surveyed closely the mouth which had uttered this off-hand sentence and saw that it was set in a line there was no mistaking.  Little enlightenment was to be got from this man.  Yet he made one more effort.

“Did my wife sign the will?” he asked.  “All pretense aside, this is a very important matter to me, Mr. Harper; not on account of the money involved, but because the doing of this simple act seemed to require such an effort on her part.”