"This morning," said Miss Vale, with a laugh that rang perfectly, "I
found that I was only a woman after all. This--this dreadful thing so
startled me that for a time I did not know what to do. My first
impulse was to call you, and I acted upon it. But," with a pretty
gesture of apology, "when I had recovered myself somewhat, I saw that
I had disturbed you unnecessarily."

"You don't mean that, after all, Hume is not--"

She held up her hand for him to stop. A strong shudder seemed to run
through her; she bent her head so that the light would not fall too
strongly upon her face. In a moment, however, she recovered.

"Yes, yes," she said, her voice perfectly under control. "He is
dead--shockingly murdered. What I mean is, that while the event is
very dreadful--still, it does not really concern me more than any
other crime of the same nature which we see staring at us from the
columns of the newspapers every day. This man's being in my mind so
much of late caused me to become unnerved when I heard the news."

"When did it occur?"

"Sometime since midnight."

There was a silence. Miss Vale arose and began to pace the room. The
long white cloak that had draped her fell away; she wore a ball dress
and her arms and shoulders shone splendidly under the lights.

"How did you hear of it?" asked Ashton-Kirk.