She was roused by a tap on the door—how much later she did not know. But the agony was passed for the present—the repulsion and the horror of what she had seen. Perhaps it was that she did not yet understand the whole truth. But at least her will was dominant; she was as a man who has fought with fear alone, and walks, white and trembling, yet perfectly himself, to the operating table.
She opened the door; and Susan stood there with a candle in one hand and a scrap of white in the other.
“For you, miss,” said the maid.
Maggie took it without a word, and read the name and the penciled message twice.
“Just light the lamp out here,” she said. “Oh … and, by the way, send Charlotte to Mrs. Baxter at once.”
“Yes, miss …”
The maid still paused, eyeing her, as if with an unspoken question. There was terror too in her eyes.
“ Mr. Laurie is not very well,” said Maggie steadily. “Please take no notice of anything. And … and, Susan, I think I shall dine alone this evening. Just a tray up here will do. If Mr. Laurie says anything, just explain that I am looking after Mrs. Baxter. And. … Susan—”
“Yes, miss.”
“Please see that Mrs. Baxter is not told that I am not dining downstairs.”
“Yes, miss.”