I laughed.
“It’s quite a mania with him.”
“Yes, isn’t it?”
We were silent for a minute or two, and then, glancing in the direction of Mary Cavendish, and dropping her voice, Cynthia said:
“Mr. Hastings.”
“Yes?”
“After tea, I want to talk to you.”
Her glance at Mary had set me thinking. I fancied that between these two there existed very little sympathy. For the first time, it occurred to me to wonder about the girl’s future. Mrs. Inglethorp had made no provisions of any kind for her, but
the morning, and the circumstances of his mother’s death.
The medical evidence was next taken. There was a breathless hush, and every eye was fixed on the famous London specialist, who was known to be one of the greatest authorities of the day on the subject of toxicology.
In a few brief words, he