"The letter from you," she answered. "I was a fool, of course, but I went. It doesn't matter, does it?"
"I suppose not," he answered.
The despair in her face nerved him to further speech. "I am afraid," he said, "that you are worrying about that deed—or rather the loss of it. I am sorry that I came too late, but it couldn't be helped. You did all that you could! I am sure of that."
"Of course!" she interposed impatiently. "And I have failed! That is the end of it!"
He looked out of the window, looked with stern, unseeing eyes upon the passing people. The sun had ceased to shine, his heart was heavy as lead. He seemed suddenly to realize the reason of her dejection. She believed in the deed. She believed that he was indeed a pauper. It was for the wreck of her hopes that she was lamenting. The rest went for nothing. He was a poor man—no longer of any interest to her! His manner unconsciously stiffened as the thought came rushing home to him. He drew away from her, and he remained silent until the cab stopped in front of her hotel. She stepped out quickly, and almost ran across the pavement.
"To-morrow," she said, holding out her hand as though to prevent his following.
He bowed and turned away. Her deshabille was without doubt an embarrassment Already he was beginning to find excuses for her. Nevertheless, he watched the slim, swaying figure, as the doors closed upon her, with something of apprehension. Was it ominous that she should pass away without a backward glance? Was she indeed nothing but an adventuress, deprived of her prey?...
He paid the cab and walked slowly back to his rooms. His solicitor had already rung up. Two of his directors were waiting to see him, a reporter buttonholed him upon the pavement. From all of which things Deane knew that Ruby Sinclair had lost no time, that the first note of battle had been sounded!