He dare not come to her openly at that hour.

Well, she was not afraid--not of Jim Westcott.

Even in her hurry she was dimly conscious of the utter, complete confidence she felt in the man; even of the strange interest he had inspired.

She paused in her hasty dressing, wondering at herself, dimly aware that a new feeling partly actuated her desire to meet the man again--a feeling thoroughly alien to the Cavendish mystery.

She glanced into the cracked mirror and laughed, half ashamed at her eagerness, yet utterly unable to suppress the quickened beat of her pulse.
She was ready almost in a minute, and had blown out the lamp.