ungloved hands, grasping the arms of the chair, were trembling.
'You are cold!' I cried. And dashing to the cupboard I got out some brandy and a siphon.
She sipped a few drops from the glass I offered her, smiling in grateful acknowledgment.
Then, as I stood upon the hearthrug facing her, I repeated my question:
'Tell us, Roseye. Where have you been?'
In her great blue eyes I noticed a strange, vacant expression; a look such as I had never seen there before. She only shook her head mournfully.
'What has happened?' I inquired, bending and placing my hand tenderly upon her shoulder.
But, with a sudden movement, she buried her face in her small hands and burst into a torrent of tears.
'Don't ask me!' she sobbed. 'Don't ask me, Claude!'
'Look here, old chap,' exclaimed Teddy, who was quite as mystified as myself. 'I'll come back later on. That Miss Lethmere is safe is, after all, the one great consolation.'
And, rising, my friend discreetly left the room.
When he had gone I fell upon my knees before my rediscovered love and, taking her cold hands in mine, covered them with hot, fervent kisses, saying:
'Never mind, darling. You are safe again—and with me!'
All my efforts to calm her, however, proved unavailing, for she still sobbed bitterly—the reaction, no doubt, of finding herself again beside me. With
