Startled by my own involuntary exclamation of surprise which
followed the vision that shot past me as I opened our door in
response to a sudden, sharp series of pushes at the buzzer,
Kennedy bounded swiftly toward me, and the girl almost flung
herself upon him.

"Why, Miss--er--Miss--my dear young lady--what's the matter?" he
stammered, catching her by the arm gently.

As Kennedy forced our strange visitor into a chair, I observed
that she was all a-tremble. Her teeth fairly chattered.
Alternately her nervous, peaceless hands clutched at an imaginary
something in the air, as if for support, then, finding none, she
would let her wrists fall supine, while she gazed about with
quivering lips and wild, restless eyes. Plainly, there was
something she feared. She was almost over the verge of hysteria.

She was a striking girl, of medium height and slender form, but it
was her face that fascinated me, with its delicately molded
features, intense unfathomable eyes of dark brown, and lips that
showed her idealistic, high-strung temperament.

"Please," he soothed, "get yourself together, please--try! What is
the matter?"

She looked about, as if she feared that the very walls had eyes
and ears. Yet there seemed to be something bursting from her lips
that she could not restrain.