When news did come, it was sudden and terrible. One night he and Edwards
were alone in the rooms in Lisle Street, when a letter, sent through a
roundabout channel, was put into his hands. He opened it carelessly,
glanced at the beginning of it, then he uttered an exclamation; then, as
he read on, Edwards noticed that his companion's face was ghastly pale,
even to his lips.
"Gracious heavens!--Edwards, read it!" he said, quite breathlessly. He
dropped the letter on the table. There was no wild joy at his own
deliverance in this man's face, there was terror rather; it was not of
himself at all he was thinking, but of the death-agony of Natalie Lind
when she should hear of her father's doom.
"Why, this is very good news, Brand," Edwards cried, wondering. "You are
released from that affair--"
But then he read farther, and he, too, became agitated.
"What--what does it mean? Lind, Beratinsky, Reitzei accused of
conspiracy--misusing the powers intrusted to them as officers of the
Society--Reitzei acquitted on giving evidence--Lind and Beratinsky
condemned!"
Edwards looked at his companion, aghast, and said,
"You know what the penalty is, Brand?"
The other nodded.
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