He heard the dull musical clash of them as her hands swept them
back into the bag, and a cold, sickening fear rendered him almost
faint with the sense of trust misplaced, illusions resolved into
brutal realities. His fingers closed convulsively about her
wrists; but she held passive.

"Ah, but I might have expected that!" came her reproachful
whisper. "Take them, then, my--my partner that was." Her tone cut
like a knife, and the touch of the canvas bag, as she forced it
into his hands, was hateful to him.

"Forgive me--" he began.

"But listen!"

For a space he obeyed, the silence at first seeming tremendous;
then, faint but distinct, he heard the tinkle and slide of the
brazen rings supporting the smoking-room portiere.

His hand sought the girl's; she had not moved, and the cool, firm
pressure of her fingers steadied him. He thought quickly.

"Quick!" he told her in the least of whispers. "Leave by the
window you opened and wait for me by the motor-car."

"No!"

There was no time to remonstrate with her. Already he had slipped
away, shaping a course for the entrance to the passage. But the