“A lady has called to see you, sir—the Princess von Leutenberg.”
“The Princess!” I gasped in surprise.
Then, wondering what could be the nature of her business with me at that hour, I smoothed down my hair before the glass, drew a long breath (for I expected a scene), and entered the room into which she had been shown.
“Léonie—you!” I cried in surprise.
Her rich sables were unclasped at the throat, and when she rose quickly they fell from her, displaying her finely moulded white neck and arms, shining like alabaster in contrast to her low-cut corsage of black chiffon.
Her face was blanched to the lips, the slim, gloved hand she gave me trembled, and her beautiful eyes, usually so brilliant and sparkling, had a look of haunting fear in them.
“Gerald!” she whispered hoarsely, as if fearful lest she might be overheard, “my secret is out! I am ruined—ruined! And through you! You have betrayed me to my enemies—you, the man I love!”