“Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently. “This is Mr. The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. There was the motor accident, too. Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it.
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