a carefully selected assortment of her own garments for the girl's
use when she arose, Mrs. Wrandall sat down beside the bed and
waited, knowing that sleep would not come to her.





CHAPTER III

HETTY CASTLETON




At half-past six she went to the telephone and called for the morning
newspapers. At the same time she asked that a couple of district
messenger boys be sent to her room with the least possible delay.
The hushed, scared voice of the telephone girl downstairs convinced
her that news of the tragedy was abroad; she could imagine the girl
looking at the headlines with awed eyes even as she responded to
the call from room 416, and her shudder as she realised that it
was the wife of the dead man speaking.

One of the night clerks, pale and agitated, came up with the papers.
He inquired if there was anything he could do. He tried to tell
her that it was a dreadful, sickening thing, but the words stuck
in his throat. She stood before him, holding the door open; the
light in the hall fell upon her white, haggard face. He began to
tremble all over, as if with the ague.