"Have you seen her since?"

"You were with her when she was taken ill?"

"I was," Douglas answered.

"You know the circumstances?"

"I know," Douglas said, "that she was the victim of a cowardly and
infamous attempt at assassination."

There came a mocking little laugh. Douglas never turned his head, but
he felt instinctively that his life was in danger--that a finger was
laid upon the trigger of that revolver.

"You are a brave man, Douglas Guest."

"Braver at least," Douglas answered, "than the man who shoots at women
and runs away."

There was the sound of a scornful laugh, a step upon the floor. His
unbidden guest was coming from out of the shadows.

"You need fear no longer. I am known to you, I see. I have put my
revolver away. You and I will talk for a while."

Douglas turned round with a little breath of relief. Yes, it was the
man whom he had expected to see, pale as death, with sunken eyes
encircled with deep, black lines, one little spot of colour flaring on
his cheeks, shabbily dressed, yet carrying in his personality still the