"We shall have to dine alone," she said, striving to make her voice natural, as she reached the door.
Then once more she raised her eyes to his, and looked him bravely in the face as he stood by the fire.
"Do just as you like about dressing," she said. "I expect you're tired."
She could bear it no more. She went out without another word, passed steadily across the length of the landing to her own room, locked the door, and threw herself on her knees.
III
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."
Maggie still stood an instant, hesitating. Then a thought recurred again.
"One moment," she said.
She stepped across the room to her writing-table, beckoning the maid to come inside and shut the door; then she wrote rapidly for a minute or so, enclosed her note, directed it, and gave it to the girl.
"Just send up someone at once, will you, with this to Father Mahon--on a bicycle."
When the maid was gone, she waited still for an instant looking across the dark landing, expectant of some sound or movement. But all was still. A line of light showed only under the door where the boy who was called Laurie Baxter stood or sat. At least he was not moving about. There in the darkness Maggie tested her power of resisting panic. Panic was the one fatal thing: so much she understood. Even if that silent door had opened, she knew she could stand there still.