Do you know who's
with him...?"
Strangwise crossed the room to where Barbara was standing.
"I can guess what brings you here, Miss Mackwayte," he said
gently. "I hope you will allow me to express my condolences'...?"
The girl shrank back, almost imperceptibly, yet Strangwise, whose
eyes were fixed on her pale face, noticed the spontaneous recoil.
The sunshine seemed to fade out of his debonair countenance, and
for a moment Barbara Mackwayte saw Maurice Strangwise as very few
people had ever seen him, stern and cold and hard, without a
vestige of his constant smile. But the shadow lifted as quickly
as it had fallen. His face had resumed its habitually engaging
expression as he murmured:
"Believe me, I am truly sorry for you!"
"Thank you, thank you!" Barbara said hastily and brushed past
him. She walked straight across the room to the door of the
Chief's room, turned the handle and walked in.
The room was in darkness save for an electric reading lamp on the
desk which threw a beam of light on the faces of two men thrust
close together in eager conversation. One was the Chief, the
other a face that Barbara knew well from the illustrated papers.
At the sound of the door opening, the Chief sprang to his feet.
"Oh, it's Miss Mackwayte," he said, and added something in a low
voice to the other man who had risen to his feet.
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