"What is wanted?"
"I am Mr. Winston, and I must speak with you at once."
His tone was sufficiently low and earnest to make her realize instantly some grave emergency. Without hesitation the door was held open, and she stood before him in the faint light of the single lamp, wearing a fleecy white wrapper, her dark hair partially disarranged, her eyes seeking his own in bewilderment.
"What is it?"
"Are you aware that both Albrecht and Lane have skipped out?"
"Why, no," her cheeks suddenly paling, her fingers clasping the edge of the door. "Do you mean they have deserted us here to—to take care of ourselves?"
He nodded. "Yes, that's about it. What I came to ask was, does that fellow owe you any money?"
For an instant she hesitated, as if in lingering distrust of his exact purpose, her lips parted, her face still plainly picturing the shock of discovery.
"What difference can that possibly make now? Why do you require to know?"
"Because I half believe you have been left penniless. Albrecht has not even spoken about any pay to me since I joined the company; and when I learned he had deliberately left us stalled here, my first thought was of your unpleasant situation if my suspicions proved true."