I followed the new line they took.
She looked at Rudolf Rassendyll, and he at her.

Helga had taken out her handkerchief, and, utterly upset by the horror and shock, was lying back in a low chair, sobbing half-hysterically; I saw the swift look that passed from the queen to her lover, carrying in it grief, remorse, and most unwilling joy.

He did not speak to her, but put out his hand and took hers.

She drew it away almost sharply, and covered her face with both hands.
Rudolf turned to me.

"When was it ?" "Last night." "And the....