"I'll be quiet."

"Remember."

It was the last word he had time to speak before we found ourselves
in the midst of a crowd of men and women, jostling one another in
curiosity or in the consternation following a quick alarm. All were
looking one way, and, as this was towards the entrance of the
Clermont, it was evident enough to us that the alarm had indeed had
its origin in the very place we had anticipated. I felt my husband's
arm press me closer to his side as we worked our way towards the
entrance, and presently caught a warning sound from his lips as the
oaths and confused cries everywhere surrounding us were broken here
and there by articulate words and we heard:

"Is it murder?"

"The beautiful Miss Challoner!"

"A millionairess in her own right!"

"Killed, they say."

"No, no! suddenly dead; that's all."

"George, what shall we do?" I managed to cry into my husband's ear.

"Get out of this. There is no chance of our reaching that door,
and I can't have you standing round any longer in this icy slush."