They alighted, crossed the sidewalk, the doors were flung open to receive
them, and they entered the hotel.

Through the entrance to the restaurant Honora caught sight of the red
glow of candles upon the white tables, and heard the hum of voices. In
the hall, people were talking and laughing in groups, and it came as a
distinct surprise to her that their arrival seemed to occasion no remark.
At the moment of getting out of the automobile, her courage had almost
failed her.

Trixton Brent hailed one of the hotel servants.

"Show Mrs. Spence to the ladies' parlour," said he. And added to Honora,
"I'll get a table, and have the dinner card brought up in a few moments."

Honora stopped the boy at the elevator door.

"Go to the office," she said, "and find out if Mrs. Joshua Holt is in,
and the number of her room. And take me to the telephone booths. I'll
wait there."

She asked the telephone operator to call up Mr. Spence's house at
Quicksands--and waited.

"I'm sorry, madam," he said, after a little while, which seemed like half
an hour to Honora, "but they've had a fire in the Kingston exchange, and
the Quicksands line is out of order."

Honora's heart sank; but the bell-boy had reappeared. Yes, Mrs. Holt was