Lambert arrived at six the next morning. His first concern was to
explain breathlessly to Alexandra that he had been detained ... a
business matter ... farewell supper.... She would understand.... He
had hardly had three hours' sleep before starting. Chalfont and
Alexandra could not help exchanging an outraged glance. When she told
him that he had come too late his weak mouth opened in surprise. Then
his features worked unpleasantly. He stood stupidly, looking as though
he were about to burst into tears. Chalfont's tolerance was near its
limit. With a set face he indicated the closed door.
"In there," he said.
Lambert hesitated.
"Do you not want to see her?" Chalfont's voice was like steel.
It only wanted the point-blank demand to unnerve Lambert completely. He
collapsed into a chair. It would have been difficult to recognize his
huddled figure as that of the debonair stage-gallant so familiar and so
dear to a host of infatuated theater-goers.
"Do you not want to see her?" Chalfont repeated remorselessly.
Lambert's face was lowered. When he looked up cowardice transfigured
it.
"I--I've never looked on death," he quavered.
Alexandra, shocked beyond words, thought that Chalfont would surely
strike him. He stood over him so long in a tense attitude.
"My God!" he at last exclaimed. "Can this be a man?"
He went to the door by which Lambert had entered, opened it, and then
drew aside as far as he could to let the actor pass.