The man looked as if he had risen from his death-bed to obey this summons.  The flesh of his face had shrunk, and left the lines of his countenance sharp.  His eye-sockets were cavernous; the dark eyes had an unnatural lustre.  His hair and beard were abandoned to neglect.  His garments hung with strange looseness about him.  He stood there, just within the door, his gaze fixed on Egremont, a gaze wherein suspicion and reproach and all unutterable woe were blended.

Walter took a step forward, vainly holding out his hand.

‘Grail, what has happened?  You are ill.  What does it mean?’

‘Why have you sent for me, Mr. Egremont?’

The question was uttered with some sternness, but bodily weakness subdued the voice, which shook.  And when he had spoken, his eyes fell.

‘Because I want to know what is the matter,’ Egremont replied, in quick, unnerved tones.  ‘Have you been here to try and see me?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Why? you knew I was away.  What has happened, Grail?’

‘I thought you knew, Mr. Egremont.’

’How should I know?  I have heard nothing from London for a fortnight.  You speak to me in an unfriendly way.  Tell me at once what you mean.’

Gilbert looked up for a moment, looked indignantly, bitterly.  But his eyes drooped again as he spoke.

’A fortnight ago Miss Trent left her home, and we can hear nothing of her.  I tried to find you, because I had reason to think that you knew where she was.’

Walter felt it as a relief.  He had waited for something worse.  Only after-thought could occupy itself with the charge distinctly made against him.  He said, as soon as he could command his voice: 

’You were wrong in thinking so.  I know nothing of Miss Trent.  I have no idea where she can have gone.’

It was only when he found Grail’s eyes fixed upon him that he added, after a pause: 

‘What were the reasons that led you to think so?’

‘You know nothing?’ Gilbert said, slowly.

’Nothing whatever.  How could you think I did?  I don’t understand you.’

Walter was not used to speak untruthfully.  He knew all this time that a man upon whom a charge such as this had come as a sheer surprise would have met it with quite other face and accent.  Remembering all that had passed between Thyrza and himself, remembering all that he had undergone, all that he had at one moment proposed, he could not express the astonishment which would have given evidence on his behalf.  As yet he had not even tried to affect indignation, for it was against his nature to play the hypocrite.  He knew that his manner was all but a tacit admission that appearances were against him.  But agitation drove him to the brink of anger, and when Gilbert stood mute, with veiled eyes, he continued impetuously: 

’I tell you that you have amazed me by your news.  Are you accusing me of something?  You must speak more plainly.  Do you mean that suspicion has fallen upon me?  How?  I don’t—­I can’t understand you!’