Some part of the excitement of a few hours ago returned.
"My bath, Annette, and a dressing-gown," she ordered.

"Tell Monsieur Bellamy that I hurry.

I will be with him in twenty minutes." To Bellamy, the twenty minutes were minutes of purgatory.

She came at last, however, fresh and eager; her hair tied up with ribbon, she herself clad in a pink dressing-gown and pink slippers.
"David!" she cried,--"my dear David--!" Then she broke off.
"What is it ?" she asked, in a different tone.
He showed her the headlines of the newspaper he was carrying.
"Tragedy!" he answered hoarsely.

"Von Behrling was true, after all,--at least, it seems so." "What has happened ?" she demanded.
Bellamy pointed once more to the newspaper.
"He was murdered last night, within fifty yards of the place of our rendezvous." A little exclamation broke from Louise's lips.