ting
table a message addressed to him from the telephone call office in the
building. He tore it open:

"Kindly ring up Number 551 Avenue immediately you return, whatever the
time."

He glanced at the clock, hesitated, and finally approaching the
instrument called up Elizabeth's number. For a few moments he waited. The
silence in the streets outside seemed somehow to have become communicated
to the line, the space between them emptied of all the jarring sounds of
the day. It was across a deep gulf of silence that he heard at last her
voice.

"Yes? Is that you, Philip?"

"I am here," he answered. "I am sorry it is so late."

"Have you only just come in?"

"This moment."

"Has that girl kept you out till now?" she asked reprovingly.

"I couldn't help it," he replied. "It was her first night over here. I
took her to Churchill's for supper."

"Is everything--all right with her? She doesn't mean to make trouble?"

The unconscious irony of the question almost forced a smile to his lips.

"I don't think so," he answered. "She is thoroughly excited at the idea
of possessing the money. I believe she thought that Douglas would have
drawn it all. She is going straight to the bank, early in the morning, to
get hold of it."

"What about the man Dane?"

"He has gone to Chicago. He won't be back for several days."

There was a moment's pause.

"Have you anything to ask me?" she enquired.

"Nothing."

"I have had the most extraordinary letter from Sylvanus. You and he have
met."

"Yes," he admitted.

"Philip, we must make up our minds."

"You mean that you must make up your mind," he answered gently.

There was another silence. Then she spoke a little abruptly.

"I wonder whether you really love me, Philip.... No! don't, please--don't
try to answer such a foolish question. Go to bed and sleep well now.
You've had a trying day. Good night, dear!"

He had barely time to say good night before he heard the ring off. He set
down the receiver. Somehow, there was a sensation of relief in having
been, although indirectly, in touch with her. The idea of the letter from
Sylvanus Power affected him only hazily. The crowded events of the day
had somehow or other dulled his power of concentrated thought. He felt a
curious sense of passivity. He undressed without conscious effort, closed
his eyes, and slept until he was awakened by the movements of the valet
about the room.

Philip was still seated over his breakfast