But little as they dreamed of such a thing, it was true. Sydney's dreadful crime had had an unthought-of spectator. A man had stood just inside the room and watched her with wild, astonished, horrified eyes.
As Queenie was about to drink the wine he rushed forward and violently struck the glass from her hand. It fell to the floor, shattered into a hundred fragments, the ruby wine splashing over the rich carpet.
The actress sprang to her feet and confronted the daring intruder.
"Lawrence Ernscliffe!" she gasped.
"Lawrence Ernscliffe!" echoed Sydney, in a voice of horror.
"Yes, Lawrence Ernscliffe," he answered, looking at Queenie.
He seemed to have no eyes for anyone but her, although his second wife stood just at his elbow.
"Why are you here?" demanded the actress, haughtily.
The tall, handsome man looked at her in astonishment.
"Madam, you permitted me to call," he said, "and this is the hour you specified. I knocked, but no one came; then I opened the door and entered."