"What?" she asked.
"Let it wait till to-morrow, Betty!"
Betty smiled no longer. The light died out of her dark, haunting eyes. Lassitude and distress veiled them.
"Something terrible, then?" she said in a whisper.
"Yes," and she stretched out a hand to the back of a chair and steadied herself.
"Please tell me, now, Jim! I shall not sleep to-night unless you do; and oh, I am so tired!"
There was so deep a longing in her voice, so utter a weariness in the pose of her young body that Jim could not but yield.
"I'll tell you, Betty," he said gently. "Hanaud and I went to find Jean Cladel to-night. We found him dead. He had been murdered—cruelly."
Betty moaned and swayed upon her feet. She would have fallen had not Jim caught her in his arms.
"Betty!" he cried.