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Updated: June 9, 2025
More than once during dinner she had seen him touch that pocket in an abstraction. He drew from it two papers, one the cablegram which he had received from Cairo, the other Hardiman's reply. He handed her the first of the two. "This reached me this morning." Stella Croyle studied the paper with her heart in her mouth. But the letters would not be still. "Oh, what does it mean?" she cried.
Mario Escobar, who had driven over with Joan Whitworth, was talking to them. Escobar turned to Martin Hillyard. "We met at Sir Charles Hardiman's supper party. You have not forgotten? You are off? A new play, I hope, to go into rehearsal." He smiled and bowed, and waved his hands.
At first he paced the deck, thoughtfully, only in the early morning or late in the evening, but later was to be found in a deck-chair, either gazing fixedly at the horizon or interested in the games of the children on board. One sturdy youngster, when recovering a ball which had rolled to Hardiman's feet, spoke to him.
By wireless, when the ship was two days from Liverpool, came the news that Hardiman had been murdered by his man-servant, and it was in consequence of this message that Christopher Quarles and I had gone north to meet the boat on its arrival. When we went on board the captain gave us the outline of Hardiman's behavior during the voyage as I have here set it down.
They sat without speaking for a little while, Stella once more turning to the fire. Hillyard watching her wistful face and the droop of her shoulders understood at last the truth of Hardiman's description. The mask was lain aside. Here indeed was a Lady of Sorrows. Stella Croyle was silent until she was quite sure that she had once more the mastery of her voice.
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