"She can't go to-day," said Patty, with an air of concern. "You were
quite right--she is really ill."

"Has she gone out?"

"No, she's upstairs, lying on the bed. She says she has a dreadful
headache, and if you saw her you'd believe it. She looks shocking.
It's the second night she hasn't closed her eyes."

A savage jealousy was burning Hilliard's vitals. He had tried to
make light of the connection between Eve and that unknown man, even
after her extraordinary request for money, which all but confessedly
she wanted on his account. He had blurred the significance of such a
situation, persuading himself that neither was Eve capable of a
great passion, nor the man he had seen able to inspire one. Now he
rushed to the conviction that Eve had fooled him with a falsehood.

"Tell her this." He glared at Patty with eyes which made the girl
shrink in alarm. "If she isn't at Charing Cross Station by a quarter
to eleven to-morrow, there's an end of it. I shall be there, and
shall go on without her. It's her only chance."

"But if she really _can't_----"

"Then it's her misfortune--she must suffer for it. She goes
to-morrow or not at all. Can you make her understand that?"

"I'll tell her."

"Listen, Patty. If you bring her safe to the station to-morrow you