’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss. The gong will go at seven-thirty. ” “You are really going on the stage, then?” he said slowly. Have I your final answer?" "You have, Sir Rowland," she answered, in a feeble tone, but firmly. At least here she was safe. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. "We shall all be murdered. “It’s—private. He laughed. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved.
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