With nervous haste he made a rush for the end of his story.
"I wasn't more than seven or eight minutes in the study; then,
as I came down-stairs, Crapham met me in the hall. He told me
that Lillian Astrupp had called and wished to see me. And
that he had shown her into the morningroom--"
"The morning-room?" Loder suddenly stepped back from the
table. "The morning-room? With your telegram lying on the
bureau?"
His sudden speech and movement startled Chilcote. The blood
rushed to his face, then died out, leaving it ashen. "Don't
do that, Loder!" he cried. "I--I can't bear it!"
With an immense effort Loder controlled himself. "Sorry!" he
said. "Go on!"
"I'm going on! I tell you I'm going on. I got a horrid shock
when Chapham told me. Your story came clattering through my
mind. I knew Lillian had come to see you--I knew there was
going to be a scene--"
"But the, telegram? The telegram?"
Chilcote paid no heed to the interruption. He was following
his own train of ideas. "I knew she had come to see you--I
knew there was going to be a scene.
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