Marguerite, with characteristic energy, came into the room first, slim
and bright-eyed. She looked from one face to the other, and then
crossed the room and stood beside Joan without speaking. She was
smiling--a little hard smile with close-set lips, showing the world a
face that meant to take life open-eyed, as it is, and make the best of
it.
Before long the two girls quitted the room, leaving the three men to
their hushed discussion. Tony had already provided himself with pen and
paper. In twelve hours that which the world must know about Lord
Ferriby should be in print. There was just time to cable it to the
_Times_ and the news agencies. And in these hurried days it is the
first word which, after all, goes farthest and carries most weight. A
contradiction is at all times a poor expedient.
"I have silenced the paper-makers," said Cornish, sitting down to
write. "Even that ass Thompson, by striking while the iron was hot."
"And Roden won't open his lips," added Mr. Wade, who, as he drove up,
had seen that brilliant financier uneasily strolling under the trees of
the Toornoifeld, looking towards the hotel, for Lord Ferriby's death
was a link in the crooked malgamite chain which even Von Holzen had
failed to foresee.
Indeed, Lord Ferriby must have been gratified could he have seen the
posthumous pother that he made by dying at this juncture. For in life
he had only been important in his own eyes, and the world had taken
little heed of him.
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