Up in room 320 Mathison found it impossible to keep that lovely face out of his thoughts. Something was wrong with the world. If ever he had looked into a countenance upon which was written honesty....
"The voice!" he cried, stopping suddenly. "The voice! That's the thing that's been hammering in the back of my head. I've heard that voice before. Where? How?" He rumpled his hair. "Where have I heard her voice?"
He had heard her laugh that night when she had come on deck in the Chinese costume. But the speaking voice! Where had he heard that?
Malachi, sensing his master's agitation, sidled back and forth along the curtain-pole, grumbling as his feet came into contact with the cold brass rings.
By and by Mathison saw the paper lady on the floor; saw it with eyes busy with introspection. He stooped; the act was purely mechanical. He went on with his pacing. He folded and refolded the slip of paper many times and at length stowed it away in a pocket, without having glanced at it once, without recalling his desire to meet her, if she happened to be in New York when he arrived there.
He heard a sound. It came from the window. He wheeled quickly, his hand going into his pocket as he turned. He had almost forgotten!
Tap-tap-tap!
Dimly he saw a woman's face against the pane. She had come back! The monumental nerve of her! On the way to the window he formed his plan of action. He would give her all the rope she wanted; he would act as if he had never seen her before, play her as a fisherman plays a trout. She had warned him, and he would not ignore her warning. He ran to the window, unlocked it, and threw it up.
The woman stumbled into the room, the expression on her face one of great terror. Hair like spun molasses, sparkling with melting snowflakes, skin like Carrara marble, with an odd little mole at the corner of her mouth, and eyes as purple as Manila Bay at sunset. From her shoulders hung a sable coat worth a king's ransom. Mathison raised her to her feet. "What is it? What's the trouble?" he asked, pulling forward a chair. Terrified. Had they discovered what she had done and had she flown to him for protection? "Beware of me!" she had said.
She sank into the chair and covered her face with her ungloved hands, rocking her body and moaning slightly.