it's worth dying for."

Diane rose as she spoke, Mrs. Eveleth following her example. For a brief
instant they stood as if measuring each other's strength, till they
started with a simultaneous shock at the sharp call of the telephone
from an adjoining room. With a smothered cry Diane sprang to answer it,
while Mrs. Eveleth, helpless with dread, remained standing, as though
frozen to the spot.

"Oui--oui--oui," came Diane's voice, speaking eagerly. "Oui, c'est bien
Madame George Eveleth. Oui, oui. Non. Je comprends. C'est Monsieur de
Melcourt. Oui--oui--Dites-le-moi tout de suite--j'insiste--Oui--oui.
Ah-h-h!"

The last, prolonged, choking exclamation came as the cry of one who
sinks, smitten to the heart. Mrs. Eveleth was able to move at last. When
she reached the other room, Diane was crouched in a little heap on the
floor.

"He's dead? He's dead?" the mother cried, in frenzied questioning.

But Diane, with glazed eyes and parted lips, could only nod her head in
affirmation.



II


During the days immediately following George Eveleth's death the two