The old man went out. Millar paced slowly up and down the floor, looking at his watch, until he heard the door bell ring.
"The beautiful Olga," he said, stepping softly from the reception-room into the studio and leaving the way clear for Olga.
She was admitted by Heinrich. She hurried into the room, looked wildly about her and sank into a seat. For a moment she could not speak.
All night and all day, since Millar's shadow hovered above her fainting form in her own home, she had been torn by the emotions raised by the letter. It was a confession she had never meant to make. She dreaded the thought of Karl ever seeing it. Heinrich waited respectfully.
"Is Mr. Karl at home?" she asked.
"Yes, madam."
"My maid told me he could not be seen until 3 o'clock. It is now after 3. May I see him?"
"If you will wait a few minutes longer, madam, I will tell him that you are here."
Heinrich started toward the studio.
"One moment," Olga called after him. "Has any one seen Mr. Karl to-day?"