"They just came, ma'am. I thought you'd like to see
them."
"From Mr. Arkwright?"
"No, ma'am; Mr. Craig."
"Craig?" ejaculated Margaret.
"Yes, Miss Rita."
"Craig," repeated Margaret, but in a very different tone--a tone
of immense satisfaction and relief. She waved her hand with a
smile of amused disdain. "Take them into the house, but not to my
room. Put them in Miss Lucia's sitting-room."
Williams had just gone when into the walk rushed Grant and Craig.
Their faces were so flurried, so full of tragic anxiety that
Margaret, stopping short, laughed out loud. "You two look as if
you had come to view the corpse."
"I passed Craig on his way here," explained Grant, "and took him
into my machine."
"I was not on my way here," replied Josh loftily. "I was merely
taking a walk. He asked me to get in and brought me here in spite
of my protests."
"You were on the road that leads here," insisted Arkwright with
much heat.
"I repeat I was simply taking a walk," insisted Craig. He had not
once looked at Margaret.
"No matter," said Margaret in her calm, distant way. "You may take
him away, Grant. And"--here she suddenly looked at Craig, a cold,
haughty glance that seemed to tear open an abysmal gulf between
them--"I do not wish to see you again.
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