Nothing would have stopped Halcyone from going out, but she hoped to do
so unperceived.
"Look if the way is clear to the door," she implored Priscilla, "while I
put on my hat. I must go to the Professor at once--something dreadful
has happened."
So Priscilla went and contrived so that she got Halcyone out of the
front door while the servants were busy in the dining-room about the
breakfast. She hailed a passing hansom, and in this, to the poor child,
novel conveyance, she was whirled safely to Cheiron's little hotel in
Jermyn Street, and Priscilla returned to her room, to make believe that
her nursling was still sleeping.
"Halcyone! My child!" the Professor exclaimed, to gain time, and then he
decided to help her out, so he went on: "I am glad to see you, but am
very distressed at the news in the paper this morning about John
Derringham--you may have seen it--and I am sure will sympathize with
me."
Halcyone's piteous eyes thanked him.
"Yes, indeed," she said. "What does it mean? Ought not--we--you to go to
him?"
Mr. Carlyon avoided looking at her.
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