eds suicides, the brooding over a morrow too hateful to be
faced.

As she still stood there, the silence of the street below was broken. A
motor-car swung round the corner and swept past the side of the hotel.
She caught at the curtain as she recognised its occupants. Richard Lane
was driving, and by his side sat her husband. The car was covered with
dust, both men seemed weary as though they had been out all night. She
gazed after them with fast-beating heart. She had pictured her husband
at the villa on the hill! Where had he been with Richard Lane? Perhaps,
after all, the things which she had imagined were not true. The car had
stopped now at the front door. It returned a moment later on its way to
the garage, with only Lane driving. She opened her door and stood there
silently. Hunterleys would have to pass the end of the corridor if he
came up by the main lift. She waited with fast beating heart. The
seconds passed. Then she heard the rattle of the lift ascending, its
click as it stopped, and soon afterwards the footsteps of a man. He was
coming--coming past the corner! At that moment she felt that the sound
of his footsteps was like the beating of fate. They came nearer and she
shrank a little back. There was something unfamiliar about them. Whoever
it might be, it was not Henry! And then suddenly Draconmeyer came into
sight. He saw her standing there and stopped short. Then he came rapidly
near.

"Lady Hunterleys!" he exclaimed softly. "You still up?"

She hesitated. Then she stood on one side, still grasping the handle of
the door.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked. "You may. I have something to say
to you. Perhaps I shall sleep better if I say it now."

He stepped quickly past her.

"Close the door," he whispered cautiously.

She obeyed him deliberately.

"There is no hurry," she said. "This is my sitting-room. I receive whom
I choose here."

"But it is nearly six o'clock!" he exclaimed.

"That does not affect me," she answered, shrugging her shoulders. "Sit
down."

He obeyed. There was something changed about her, something which he did
not recognise. She thrust her hands into a box of cigarettes, took one
out and lit it. She leaned against the table, facing him.

"Listen," she continued, "I have borrowed from you three thousand
pounds. You left with me to-night--I don't know whether you meant to
lend it to me or whether I had it on trust, but you left it in my
charge--another thousand pound