With the departure of the press a lethargy of bleak foreboding clamped on Brandgwyn.
Bruce had gone, and it had not been a pleasant departure. He had waited upstairs for Francine, only to have her completely ignore him and lock herself in her suite. For a disgraceful moment he had pounded on her living-room door, only to hear her scream at him from its other side to go away, to leave her alone, and finally, at Henry’s insistence, Bruce had gone.
The coma was broken at four in the afternoon by Buran, who came in upon Margot in the library. With her urgent wanting to hear Jake’s report on the photograph, she had drawn some nervous satisfaction from hovering within earshot of the telephone.
Buran said good afternoon, that he had come to see Mr. Tyler, that Jarvis had gone upstairs to tell
