Perhaps she was thinking of his last night in the palace garden.

Away up there in the darkness gleamed his single, lonely, pathetic little light.
"Isn't it rather odd, Mr.Browne, that his light should be burning at two o'clock in the morning?
Is it his custom to sit up--" "I've never noticed it before, now you speak of it.

I hope nothing serious has happened to him.

He may have been injured in--I say, if you don't mind, I'll ask some one to telephone up to his place.

It would be beastly to let him lie up there alone if we can be of any service to--" "Yes, do telephone," she broke in.