It was half-past nine before they rose from the table,
and Lessingham accompanied them into the library. With the advent
of coffee, they were for the first time really alone. Lessingham
sat by Philippa's side, and Helen reclined in a low chair close at
hand.
"I think," he said, "that I can venture now to tell you some news."
Helen put down her work. Philippa looked at him in silence, and her
eyes seemed to dilate.
"I have hesitated to say anything about it," Lessingham went on,
"because there is so much uncertainty about these things, but I
believe that it is now finally arranged. I think that within the
next week or ten days--perhaps a little before, perhaps a little
later--your brother Richard will be set at liberty."
"Dick? Dick coming home?" Philippa cried, springing up from her
reclining position.
"Dick?" Helen faltered, her work lying unheeded in her lap. "Mr.
Lessingham, do you mean it? Is it possible?"
"It is not only possible," Lessingham assured them, "but I believe
that it will come to pass. I have had to exercise a little
duplicity, but I fancy that it has been successful. I have insisted
that without help from an influential person in Dreymarsh, I cannot
bring my labours here to a satisfactory conclusion, and I have named
as the price of that help, Richard's absolute and immediate freedom.
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