When I had entered the little sitting room and shut the door, I turned to Barbara, awaiting with some curiosity what she had to say to me. But for a while she said nothing, standing before me silently, and looking at me with a most disquieting expression. All her calm self-possession had gone. I could read nothing in her face but alarm and dismay.
“It is dreadful, Rupert!” she exclaimed, at length, in a half-whisper. “It is like some awful dream! What can it all mean? I don’t dare to ask myself the question.”
I shook my head, for I was in precisely the same condition. I did not dare to weigh the meaning of the things that I had seen and heard.
Suddenly, the stony fixity of her face relaxed and with a little, smothered cry she flung her arm around my neck and buried her face on my should
