A dead silence followed. So silent, that Sam suddenly cast an alarmed look at Virginia, as though he feared she had heard him hiss--"The contemptible sissy!"--and was surprised that no response met his silent thought, either by look or word. Virginia was speechless. Yet she was bursting to tell them Dorothy was alive, but in captivity. She remembered the terrible threat made by the Italian in the park. It burned into her brain and made her tremble with anxiety lest the secret should get out and the child's life jeopardized thereby. But, how to deny the vile lie that Constance was a party to the kidnapping? It was a question that baffled completely all the ingenuity that had aided her in other situations. While she was racking her brains for some guiding thought, to silence slanderous tongues, she heard John Thorpe very gravely say: "My lord must be mistaken." It was such sweet relief to know that he did not believe Constance was guilty of the crime that Virginia unconsciously exclaimed: "Thank Heaven!" After John Thorpe had expressed his disbelief in his wife's guilt, he slowly turned on his heel, intending to leave the room, for the conversation was painful to him and the company too closely associated with his unhappiness, for the quiet rest he so much needed. He had scarcely turned toward the door when he was halted by Mr. Harris, who had just entered from the hall, and announced a restful room in readiness for his immediate use. To his surprise, John Thorpe turned and wearisomely said: "I thank you, Mr. Harris, but an important matter that I have neglected has just come to my mind. I beg to apologize for the needless trouble I have caused you." And he turned slowly and went toward the door. Virginia perceived that unless immediate steps were taken, her opportunity to arrange a meeting with John would be lost. It was, therefore, with a startled cry of disappointment that she addressed him: "John! I have something"--she hesitated. Thorpe halted on the threshold and half turned around. Aghast, Virginia arose from her seat, when Rutley drawled out in his most suave accents: "Miss Thorpe is manifestly fatigued from over-exertion," and instantly taking her by the arm, led her reluctantly, and in timidity, to a seat on a divan, the end of which he wheeled forward, ostensibly to give her a better view of the lawn, then inundated with sunshine, but in reality to avert her eyes from the face of her brother. John Thorpe gazed inquiringly for a second and then, with head bent, slowly and gravely left the house. Mr. Harris started to accompany Thorpe, to press him to rest awhile, but on recalling his obligation to Virginia, checked himself and turned into the library.