“It’s devilish. Such a beautiful girl! Laura, I must leave you for a moment. Do you mind?”
“No, no; yet—”
I did mind; but he was gone before I could take back my word. Alone, I felt the tragedy much more than when he was with me. Instead of watching, as I had hitherto done, every movement in the room opposite, I drew back against the wall and hid my eyes, waiting feverishly for George’s return.
He came, when he did come, in some haste and with certain marks of increased agitation.
“Laura,” said he, “Slater says that we may possibly be wanted and proposes that we stay here all night. I have telephoned Adela and have made it all right at home. Will you come to your room? This is no place for you.”
Nothing could have pleased me better; to be near and yet not the direct observer of proceedings in which we took so secret an interest! I showed my gratitude by following George immediately. But I could not go without casting another glance at the tragic scene I was leaving. A stir was perceptible there, and I was just in time to see its cause. A tall, angular gentleman was approaching from the direction of the musicians’ gallery, and from the manner of all present, as well as from the whispered comment of my husband, I recognised in him the special official for whom all had been waiting.
“Are you going to tell him?” was my question to George as we made our way down to the lobby.
“That depends. First, I am going to see you settled in a room quite remote from this business.”
“I shall not like that.”
“I know, my dear, but it is best.”