Most of those present manifested no interest in the game—their minds were wholly taken up with heavenly visions—death might come and go without their notice.
Eric knew what must be done.
The woman was elegantly dressed—she was no doubt the wife of a wealthy citizen, and if it were known that she had expired in this fashionable opium joint the shame would be terrible. He aroused the widow.
The other veiled lady was trembling, having gained her feet, but she would answer no questions, only sob and wring her hands, while the artist pretended not to notice any one, though eagerly taking it all in.
When the dashing widow was brought out of her dreams and made to realize the truth, she too seemed overwhelmed.
Eric took hold of her.
His strong mind controlled hers, and he soon made her see how essential it was that this awful business be kept a dead secret.
She must confide in him, giving the name and address of the deceased—he would then see that the body was taken there unknown to a living soul save the driver, and the secret would be locked in the breast of her husband.
The world she moved in would attend her funeral, and never dream that she had died in any other place than at home.
This gave the widow hope.