Mrs. Jervaise's response began to open my eyes to the state of the new relations that now existed between myself and the rest of the party. She did not even allow me to begin. She ignored my opening entirely, and looking down the table towards her husband said, "Mr. Sturton preached from the tenth of Hebrews, 'Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering.' Quite a coincidence, wasn't it?"
"Indeed? Yes, quite a coincidence," Mr. Jervaise replied without enthusiasm. He did not look as cheerful as I had anticipated, but he wore the air of a man who has had at least a temporary reprieve.
"Olive and I were quite struck by it; weren't we, dear?" Mrs. Jervaise continued, dragging in her daughter's evidence.
"Yes, it was very odd," Olive agreed tepidly.
I never knew what the coincidence was, but I judge from Mrs. Jervaise's insistence that it was something perfectly futile.
I glanced across at Hughes, and guessed that he was not less bored than I was myself, but when I caught his eye he looked hastily away.
I was beginning to wonder what I had done, but I valiantly tried again.
"Don't you think it possible that many cases of apparent coincidences are probably due to telepathy?" I said genially, addressing the dangerous-looking profile of my hostess.
She gave an impatient movement of her head that reminded me of a parrot viciously digging out the kernel of a nut.
"I really can't say," she said, pointedly turned to Gordon Hughes, who was on her other side, and asked him if he had played much tennis lately.
I looked round the table for help, but none of the party would meet my eyes, avoiding my glance with a determination that could not be mistaken. I might have suffered from some loathsome deformity. Frank, alone, appeared unaware of my innocent appeal for an explanation. He was bending gloomily over his plate, apparently absorbed in his own thoughts--though how any man could be gloomy after his recent experience it was beyond me to imagine.
My astonishment flamed into a feeling of acute annoyance. If any one had spoken to me at that moment, I should have been unforgivably rude. But no one had the least intention of speaking to me, and I had just sense enough to restrain myself from demanding an apology from the company at large. That was my natural inclination. I had been insulted; outraged. I was the Jervaises' guest, and whatever they imagined that I had done, they owed it to me and to themselves to treat me with a reasonable courtesy.