She rang the bell for the lift, which appeared almost immediately. Draconmeyer stepped in with her.
"Lady Hunterleys," he persisted, "I beg of you to do as I ask. Let me take you to your rooms. I will tell you all that has happened. Your husband will not be able to see you or speak with you."
"I shall not get out," she declared, when the lift boy, in obedience to Draconmeyer's imperative order, stopped at her floor. "If I may not go on in the lift, I shall walk up the stairs. I am going to my husband."
"He will not recognise you," Draconmeyer warned her. "I am very sorry indeed, Lady Hunterleys—I would spare you this shock if I could—but you must be prepared for very serious things."
They had reached the next floor now. The boy opened the gate of the lift and she stepped out. She looked pitifully at Draconmeyer.
"You aren't going to tell me that he is dead?" she moaned.
"I am afraid he is," Draconmeyer assented.
She staggered across the landing, pushing him away from her. There were four or five people standing outside the door of Hunterleys' apartment. She appealed to them.
"Let me go in at once," she ordered. "I am Lady Hunterleys."
"The door is locked," one of the men declared.