“You’d better stay; she’ll worry if you don’t. Tell her what she wants, but nothing unpleasant.”
The whisper might have been noiseless, but the girl heard. She unclosed her eyes and looked at the pair as if she had detected them in something improper.
“What are you two talking about?” The men said nothing; they might have been guilty. Once more the eyes were closed; with them shut the girl asked a question.
“Where is Hugh?” When a reply did not immediately come, her eyes reopened; she gazed at Mr. Stewart. “What has become of Hugh? Tell me.”
The words were a command. She kept her glance on Mr. Stewart as if to drive it home. The gentleman fenced.
“Hugh? Do you mean Mr. Beckwith?”
“You know that I mean Mr. Beckwith.” It was an accusation. “Where is Hugh?”
she asked again. Mr. Stewart
