But it was plain that exhaustion was swiftly overtaking her, that her bruised senses were near the end of their endurance.
"You need fear no uneasiness from the letter while it is in my possession," the detective said reassuringly.
She accepted the statement as a final refusal to surrender the missive, and, consulting the small watch set in her black leather purse, noted with a frightened gasp that it was two o'clock.
"Where is Mr.Beard ?" she asked, as if suddenly recalling his absence.
"He is under arrest," answered Britz in even voice.
Despite the soothing quality which he tried to inject into his tone, she started like a frightened deer.
"Arrest!" she echoed.

"Then he didn't deliver--the woman, Julia Strong, didn't get the message ?" She shivered, as the chill breath of a new fear stole over her.
"Julia Strong is dead," said Britz, in the same calm, matter-of-fact voice.
But to the woman the words came like a destructive avalanche.

She buried her face in her hands, while her frame shook with successive sobs.

The last shreds of her outward composure vanished as before the wind, and she surrendered unresistingly to the turbulent emotions struggling within her.

Several minutes passed before the inward tumult subsided.
Then, lifting herself to her feet, she said with bitter emphasis: "Four lives wrecked! Two dead!...