He looked at her with those irresistibly twinkling eyes, but she perceived a very steady will behind them.
“I will explain nothing at all,” he said, “now that I have seen you, and heard what you think, except this single point. What you have to be prepared for is the news that Mr. Baxter has suddenly gone out of his mind.”
It was said in exactly the same tone as his previous sentences, and for a moment she did not catch the full weight of its meaning. She stopped and looked at him, paling gradually.
“Yes, you took that very well,” he said, still meeting her eyes steadily.
“Stop. … Keep a strong hold on yourself. That is the worst you have to hear, for the present. Now tell me immediately whether you think Mrs. Baxter should be informed or not.”
Her leaping heart slowed down into three or four gulping blows at the base of her throat.
She swallowed with difficulty.
“How do you know—”
“Kindly answer my question,” he said. “Do you think Mrs. Baxter—”
“Oh, God! Oh, God!” sobbed Maggie.
“Steady, steady,” said the old man. “Take my arm, Miss Deronnais.”
She shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on his.
He smiled in his grey beard.
“Very good,” he said, “very good. And do you think—”