her throat. There were other shots fired, but how many I do not know;
for the first knowledge I had of my surroundings and actions was that
I was rushing through the chop-suey restaurant into the street. Just
which streets I followed when I got outside I do not know, but I think
I must have gone towards Eighth Avenue, then down towards Twenty-third
Street and across towards Fifth Avenue. I traveled, not by sight, but
instinctively. I felt like one fleeing in a horrible nightmare.

How long and far I walked I cannot tell; but on Fifth Avenue, under a
light, I passed a cab containing a solitary occupant, who called to
me, and I recognized the voice and face of my millionaire friend. He
stopped the cab and asked: "What on earth are you doing strolling in
this part of the town?" For answer I got into the cab and related to
him all that had happened. He reassured me by saying that no charge of
any kind could be brought against me; then added: "But of course you
don't want to be mixed up in such an affair." He directed the driver
to turn around and go into the park, and then went on to say: "I
decided last night that I'd go to Europe tomorrow. I think I'll take
you along instead of Walter." Walter was his valet. It was settled
that I should go to his apartments for the rest of the night and sail
with him in the morning.

We drove around through the park, exchanging only an occasional word.
The cool air somewhat calmed my nerves and I lay back and closed my
eyes; but still I could see that beautiful white throat with the ugly
wound. The jet of blood pulsing from it had placed an indelible red
stain on my memory.