were almost dilated. Then she looked around.
Her voice sounded unnatural.

"Look!" she cried. "Francis Norgate--Mr. Francis Norgate has committed
suicide in his rooms!"

"It is not possible!" Selingman exclaimed.

They all crowded around the paper. The announcement was contained in a
few lines only. Mr. Francis Norgate had been discovered shot through the
heart in his sitting-room at the Milan Court, with a revolver by his
side. There was a letter addressed to his wife, who had left the day
before for Paris. No further particulars could be given of the tragedy.
The little group of men and women all looked at one another in a strange,
questioning manner. For a moment the war cloud seemed to have passed even
from their memories. It was something newer and in a sense more dramatic,
this. Norgate--one of themselves! Norgate, who had played bridge with
them day after day, had been married only a week or so ago--dead, under
the most horrible of all conditions! And Baring, only a few weeks before!
There was an uneasiness about which no one could put into words, vague
suspicions, strange imaginings.

"It's only three weeks," some one muttered, "since poor Baring shot
himself! What the devil does it mean? Norgate--why, the fellow was full
of common sense."

"He was fearfully cut up," some one interposed, "about that Berlin
affair."

"But he was just married," Mrs. Paston Benedek reminded them, "married to
the most charming woman in Europe,--rich, too, and noble. I saw them only
two days ago together. They were the picture of happiness. This is too
terrible. I am going into the other room to sit down. Please forgive me.
Mr. Selingman, will you give me your arm?"

She passed into the little drawing-room, almost dragging her companion.
She closed the door behind them. Her eyes were brilliant. The words came
hot and quivering from her lips.

"Listen!" she ordered. "Tell me the truth. Was this suicide or not?"

"Why should it not be?" Selingman asked gravely. "Norgate was an
Englishman, after all. He must have felt that he had betrayed his
country. He has given us, as you know, very valuable information. The
thought must have preyed upon his conscience."

"Don't lie to me!" she interrupted. "Tell me the truth now or never come
near me again, never ask me another question, don't be surprised to find
the whole circle of your friends here broken up and against you. It's
only the truth I ask for. If a thing is necessary, do