Mr.Bellingham, whose mental condition at first alternated between furious anger and absolute panic, was fast sinking into a state of nervous prostration that I viewed with no little alarm.

In fact, the only really self-possessed person in the entire household was Ruth herself, and even she could not conceal the ravages of sorrow and suspense and overshadowing peril.

Her manner was almost unchanged; or rather, I should say, she had gone back to that which I had first known--quiet, reserved, taciturn, with a certain bitter humour showing through her unvarying amiability.

When she and I were alone, indeed, her reserve melted away and she was all sweetness and gentleness.

But it wrung my heart to look at her, to see how, day by day, she grew ever more thin and haggard; to watch the growing pallor of her cheek; to look into her solemn grey eyes, so sad and tragic and yet so brave and defiant of fate.
It was a terrible time; and through it all the dreadful questions haunted me continually: When will the blow fall?
What is it that the police are waiting for?
And when they do strike, what will Thorndyke have to say?
So things went on for four dreadful days.