"Does it pain you?" he queried with polite solicitude, looking down at the dainty low-cut gray shoe. "Bear your weight on it."
She essayed the experiment. "No," she barely whispered; "it is all right."
He fixed upon her a look of questioning amazement, as she still held trembling to his arm. "What is the matter, then?"
"There is somebody in the hotel."
He gave a hasty glance upward from under the stiff brim of his hat. "Hardly likely—but I'll examine and see."
He was about to start off when she tightened her clutch on his arm.
"No, no," she pleaded. "Don't leave me! I don't know why—but I can't stand. I can't walk."
"Did you really hear something?" he asked sceptically.
The light note of satire stung her pride. "Oh, I saw them, and they saw me," she protested. "I saw three men, and they all ran as I came into the dining-room."
He broke into a short laugh. "Got them on the run, did you? Not very formidable they were, you must admit. Shadows, I fancy. There is a large mirror on the blank side of the dining-room opposite the door. Don't you suppose it possible that you saw only your own moving reflection?"