"Of course we must have a receipt
for it," he added. "I have it ready here, and she need only attach her
signature."
"Miss Holladay is too ill to see you, sir," said the maid, with
careful enunciation. "I will myself the paper take to her and get her
signature."
Mr. Royce hesitated a moment in perplexity. As for me, I was
ransacking my memory--where had I heard that voice before? Somewhere,
I was certain--a voice low, vibrant, repressed, full of color. Then,
with a start, I remembered! It was Miss Holladay's voice, as she had
risen to welcome our junior that morning at the coroner's court! I
shook myself together--for that was nonsense!
"I fear that won't do," said Mr. Royce at last. "The sum is a
considerable one, and must be given to Miss Holladay by me personally
in the presence of this witness."
It was the maid's turn to hesitate; I saw her lips tighten ominously.
"Very well, sir," she said. "But I warn you, she is most nervous and
it has been forbidden her to talk."
"She will not be called upon to talk," retorted Mr. Royce curtly; and
without answering, the woman turned and led the way up the stair and
to her mistress's room.
Miss Holladay was lying back in a great chair with a bandage about her
head, and even in the half-light I could see how changed she was.
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