“I can’t help it, the feeling’s there. If you try all night you’ll never be able to argue me out of it. I feel it in every bone of my body. I couldn’t be more certain if I saw Margaret lying dead in front of me.” Susie saw that it was indeed useless to reason with him. The only course was to accept his conviction and make the best of it. “What do you want us to do?” she asked. “I want you both to come to England with me at once. If we start now we can catch the evening train.” Susie did not answer, but she got up. She touched the doctor on the arm. “Please come,” she whispered. He nodded and untucked the napkin he had already arranged over his waistcoat. “I’ve got a cab at the door,” said Arthur. “And what about clothes for Miss Susie?” said the doctor. “Oh, we can’t wait for that,” cried Arthur. “For God’s sake, come quickly.” Susie knew that there was plenty of time to fetch a few necessary things before the train started, but Arthur’s impatience was too great to be withstood. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I can get all I want in England.” He hurried them to the door and told the cabman to drive to the station as quickly as ever he could. “For Heaven’s sake, calm down a little,” said Susie. “You’ll be no good to anyone in that state.” “I feel certain we’re too late.” “Nonsense! I’m convinced that you’ll find Margaret safe and sound.” He did not answer. He gave a sigh of relief as they drove into the courtyard of the station. Chapter XIV Susie never forgot the horror of that journey to England. They arrived in London early in the morning and, without stopping, drove to Euston. For three or four days there had been unusual heat, and even at that hour the streets were sultry and airless. The train north was crowded, and it seemed impossible to get a breath of air. Her head ached, but she was obliged to keep a cheerful demeanour in the effort to allay Arthur’s increasing anxiety. Dr Porhoët sat in front of her. After the sleepless night his eyes were heavy and his face deeply lined. He was exhausted. At length, after much tiresome changing, they reached Venning. She had expected a greater coolness in that northern country; but there was a hot blight over the place, and, as they walked to the inn from the little station, they could hardly drag their limbs along. Arthur had telegraphed from London that they must have rooms ready, and the landlady expected them. She recognized Arthur. He passionately desired to ask her whether anything had happened since he went away, but forced himself to be silent for a while. He greeted her with cheerfulness. “Well, Mrs Smithers, what has been going on since I left you?” he cried. “Of course you wouldn’t have heard, sir,” she answered gravely. He began to tremble, but with an almost superhuman effort controlled his voice. “Has the squire hanged himself?” he asked lightly. “No sir—but the poor lady’s dead.” He did not answer. He seemed turned to stone. He stared with ghastly eyes.