She stood for a moment looking across at the two men with blank eyes,
as if she hardly recognised them. Her face was white and haggard;
there was a stunned look in her eyes, but Sangster could see that she
had not shed a tear. He went forward and took her hand. He drew her
into the room, shutting the door quietly. Jimmy had walked over to the
window; he stood staring into the street with misty eyes. He had never
had death brought home to him like this before. It seemed to have made
an upheaval in his world; to have thrown all his schemes and
calculations out of gear; life was all at once a thing to be feared and
dreaded.

He could hear Sangster talking to Christine behind him; he could not
hear what he was saying; he was only too thankful that his friend had
come. The last hours which he had spent alone with Christine had been
a nightmare to him. He had been so unable to comfort her; he had been
at his wits' end to know what to do or say. She was so utterly alone;
she had no father--no brothers to whom he could send. He had wired to
an uncle of whom she had told him, but it was impossible that anyone
could arrive before the morning, he knew.

Sangster was just the sort needed for a tragedy such as this; was a
brick--he always knew what to say and do.

The room seemed very silent; the whole world seemed silent too, as if
it had stopped aghast at this sudden tragedy which had been enacted in
its midst.

Then Christine began to sob; the most pathetic, loneliest sound it was
through the silent room. Jimmy felt himself choking--felt his own eyes
blurred and misty.