"Comfort her," he implored them, and, turning, went out quickly.
Awaiting him in the study he found not only Lord Wellington, but Colonel Grant, and by the cold gravity of both their faces he had an inspiration that in some mysterious way the whole hideous truth was already known to them.
The slight figure of his lordship in its grey frock was stiff and erect, his booted leg firmly planted, his hands behind him clutching his riding-crop and cocked hat.

His face was set and his voice as he greeted O'Moy sharp and staccato.
"Ah, O'Moy, there are one or two matters to be discussed before I leave Lisbon." "I had written to you, sir," replied O'Moy.

"Perhaps you will first read my letter." And he went to fetch it from the writing-table, where he had left it when completed an hour earlier.
His lordship took the letter in silence, and after one piercing glance at O'Moy broke the seal.

In the background, near the window, the tall figure of Colquhoun Grant stood stiffly erect, his hawk face inscrutable.
"Ah! Your resignation, O'Moy.

But you give no reasons." Again his keen glance stabbed into the adjutant's face.