She paused a moment in the corridor above, outside Una's
door. She was in such need of communion with some one that for a
moment she thought of going in. But she knew beforehand the
greeting that would await her; the empty platitudes, the obvious
small change of verbiage which her ladyship would dole out. The
very thought of it restrained her, and so she passed on to her own
room and a sleepless night in which to piece together the puzzle
which the situation offered her, the amazing enigma of Sir Terence's
seeming access of insanity.
And the only conclusion that she reached was that intertwined with
the death of Samoval there was some other circumstance which had
aroused in the adjutant an unreasoning hatred of his friend,
converting him into Tremayne's bitterest enemy, intent - as he had
confessed - upon seeing him shot for that night's work. And because
she knew them both for men of honour above all, the enigma was
immeasurably deepened.
Had she but obeyed the transient impulse to seek Lady O'Moy she
might have discovered all the truth at once. For she would have
come upon her ladyship in a frame of mind almost as distraught as
her own; and she might - had she penetrated to the dressing-room
where her ladyship was - have come upon Richard Butler at the same
time.
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