CHAPTER XI

VON BEHRLING'S FATE


It seemed to Louise that she had scarcely been in bed an hour when
the more confidential of her maids - Annette, the Frenchwoman - woke
her with a light touch of the arm. She sat up in bed sleepily.

"What is it, Annette?" she asked. "Surely it is not mid-day yet?
Why do you disturb me?"

"It is barely nine o'clock, Mademoiselle, but Monsieur Bellamy -
Mademoiselle told me that she wished to receive him whenever he came.
He is in the boudoir now, and very impatient."

"Did he send any message?"

"Only that his business was of the most urgent," the maid replied.

Louise sighed, - she was really very sleepy. Then, as the thoughts
began to crowd into her brain, she began also to remember. Some
part of the excitement of a few hours ago returned.

"My bath, Annette, and a dressing-gown," she ordered. "Tell Monsieur
Bellamy that I hurry. I will be with him in twenty minutes."

To Bellamy, the twenty minutes were minutes of purgatory. She came