Oxbye is in good hands."
"People do sometimes sink under an illness," she quietly remarked.
Without making any reply he took out his matchbox. His hand trembled a
little; he failed at the first attempt to strike a light.
"And doctors sometimes make mistakes," Iris went on.
He was still silent. At the second attempt, he succeeded with the
match, and lit his cigar.
"Suppose Mr. Vimpany made a mistake," she persisted. "In the case of
this stranger, it might lead to deplorable results."
Lord Harry lost his temper, and with it his colour.
"What the devil do you mean?" he cried.
"I might ask, in my turn," she said, "what have I done to provoke an
outbreak of temper? I only made a remark."
At that critical moment, Fanny Mere entered the room with a telegram in
her hand.
"For you, my lady."
Iris opened the telegram. The message was signed by Mrs. Vimpany, and
was expressed in these words: "You may feel it your duty to go to your
father. He is dangerously ill."
Lord Harry saw a sudden change in his wife's face that roused his
guilty suspicions. "Is it anything about me?" he asked.
Iris handed the telegram to him in silence. Having looked at it, he
desired to hear what her wishes were.
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