There was no anger in his voice, but there was also no kindness. She
knew that he was watching her with a piercing scrutiny, and she dared
not raise her eyes. She shook her head at last, as he waited for her
reply.
"Are you willing for me to take an explanation from Mr. Hyde?" he
asked; and his tone rang suddenly hard. "Has he the right to explain?"
"Of course I have the right," said Hyde easily.
"Tell him so, Hope!"
Baring bent towards the girl.
"If he has the right," he said, his voice quiet but very insistent,
"look me in the face--and tell me so!"
She made a convulsive effort and looked up at him.
"Yes," she said in a whisper. "He has the right."
Baring straightened himself abruptly, almost as if he had received a
blow in the face.
He stood for a second silent. Then:
"Where is your brother?" he asked.
Hope hesitated, and at once Hyde answered for her.
"He isn't back yet. He stopped at the club."
"That," said Baring sternly, "is a lie."
He laid his hand suddenly upon Hope's shoulder.
"Surely you can tell me the truth at least!" he said.
Something in his tone pierced the wild panic at her heart. She looked up
at him again, meeting the mastery of his eyes.
"He is in his room," she said. "Mr. Hyde didn't know."
Hyde laughed, and at the sound the hand on Hope's shoulder closed like a
vice, till she bit her lip with the effort to endure the pain. Baring
saw it, and instantly set her free.
"Go to your brother," he said, "and ask him to come and speak to me!"
The authority in his voice was not to be gainsaid. She threw an
imploring look at Hyde, and went. She fled like a wild creature along
the veranda to her brother's room, and tapped feverishly, frantically at
the window. Then she paused listening intently for a reply. But she
could hear nothing save the loud beating of her heart. It drummed in her
ears like the hoofs of a galloping horse. Desperately she knocked again.
"Let me in!" she gasped. "Let me in!"
There came a blundering movement, and the door opened.
"Hullo!" said Ronnie, in a voice of sleepy irritation. "What's up?"
She stumbled into the dark room, breathless and sobbing.
"Oh, Ronnie!" she cried. "Oh, Ronnie; you must help me now!"
He fastened the door behind her, and as she sank down half-fainting in a
chair, she heard him groping for matches on the dressing-table.
He struck one, and lighted a lamp. She saw that his hand was very shaky,
but that he managed to control it. His face was pale, and there were
deep shadows under his heavy eyes, but he was himself again, and a
thrill of thankfulness ran through her. There was still a chance, still
a chance!