me."

He had already preceded me into the stifling fumes. With a last
long breath of fresh air I plunged in after him, scarcely knowing
what would happen to me. I saw the figure on the floor, seized it,
and backed out of the room as fast as I could.

Dizzy and giddy from the fumes I had been forced to inhale, I
managed to drag the form to the nearest window. It was Lucille
White.

An instant later I felt myself unceremoniously pushed aside.
Spencer had forgotten all about the millions of dollars' worth of
curios, all about the suspicions that had been entertained against
her, and had taken the half-conscious burden from me.

"This is the second time I have found you here, Edouard," she was
muttering in her half-delirium, still struggling. "The first time-
-that night I hid in the mummy-case, you fled when I called for
help. I have followed you every moment since last night to prevent
this. Edouard, don't, DON'T! Remember I was--I am your wife.
Listen to me. Oh, it is the absinthe that has spoiled your art and
made it worthless, not the critics. It is not Mr. Spencer who has
enticed me away, but you who drove me away, first from Paris, and
now from New York. He has been only--No! No!--" she was shrieking
now, her eyes wide open as she realised it was Spencer himself she
saw leaning over her. With a great effort she seemed to rouse
herself. "Don't stay. Run--run. Leave me. He has a bomb that may
go off at any moment. Oh--oh--it is the curse of absinthe that
pursues me. Will you not go? Vite! Vite!"