In the midst of her pitiful quandary Romaine was startled by an impetuous step outside the closed door. She recoiled to the furthest corner of the room, and stood bracing her fainting body against the wall.
Contrary to her expectation it was Colston Drummond who flung wide the door and stood before her.
The revulsion of feeling well-nigh overpowered her, yet in some way she was able to demand, in answer to his passionate utterance of her name,
"Why are you here?"
"You forget that I can claim a husband's protection," she retorted valiantly.
"It is from him that I seek to protect you," Drummond exclaimed; "you should not have written to me as you did, should not have laid bare your tortured heart and revealed the secret which I have had every reason to suspect, which my great love for you divined long, long ago, if you did not wish me to fly to your rescue!"
She held up beseeching hands, as though she would ward off that which she would welcome, and cried piteously,
"Too late! It is too late!"
Whatever he might have said remained unuttered, since at the moment that frenzied cry reached their ears, freezing their blood with its baleful import.