Lawford listened and stared solemnly. 'Whatever it may be,
Sheila, I will be loyal,' he said.

Her sobs hushed, and again cold horror crept over her. Nobody in
the whole world could have said that 'I will be loyal' quite like
that--nobody but Arthur. She stood up, patting her hair. 'I don't
think my brain would bear much more. It's useless to talk. If you
will go up; I will put out the lamp.'



CHAPTER FOUR

0ne solitary and tall candle burned on the great dressing-table.
Faint, solitary pictures broke the blankness of each wall. The
carpet was rich, the bed impressive, and the basins on the
washstand as uninviting as the bed. Lawford sat down on the edge
of it in complete isolation. He sat without stirring, listening
to his watch ticking in his pocket. The china clock on the
chimney piece pointed cheerfully to the hour of dawn. It was
exactly, he computed carefully, five hours and seven minutes
fast. Not the slightest sound broke the stillness, until he
heard, very, very softly and gradually, the key of his door turn
in the oiled wards, and realized that he was a prisoner.

Women were strange creatures. How often he had heard that said,
he thought lamely. He felt no anger, no surprise or resentment,
at the trick. It was only to be expected. He could sit on till
morning; easily till morning. He had never noticed before how
empty a well-furnished room could seem. It was his own room too;