Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/106

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100
THE WHISPER ON THE STAIR

nobody else in the world existed. They, each of them, actually had to wrench away their gaze.

“I have a note for you, if you will pardon me,” continued the head waiter, looking at Miss Pomeroy. “A boy delivered it and told me it was important.”

He handed her the note. She took it, thanking him mechanically, and he withdrew, rubbing his hands in cadence one over the other.

With an apology to Val she ripped open the envelope and read the missive swiftly; her face became pale as ashes and her breath came more quickly in the tremor of her alarmed emotions. He noticed these symptoms of fright as she read, and it was difficult to resist the feeling that the proper move for him was to take her in his arms and quiet and soothe her. If it had not been a public place. . . .

“Is it as bad as that?” he asked softly.

“Oh, I must go at once—it’s important!” she ejaculated. “It’s from⸺”

“Can you tell me what it’s about?” he inquired. “Of course, if there’s anything I can⸺”

“No, I think there’s nothing you can do, Mr. Morley,” she broke in. “I—I think I can’t tell you—now—what it’s all about, but I must go at once.” They both rose.

“Perhaps I can help you,” he persisted. “You know, I would like nothing better than⸺”

“You’re very good, Mr. Morley, but I can’t call upon you in this particular case. It’s—it’s all right—there’s no help needed. I was foolish to be so alarmed. It’s from Ignace, and he’s at my house—I must go back at once.”

He stepped up close to her, so close that they al-