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hand. She gave a terrified cry, then snatching up a heavy presse-
papiers from the desk beside her, she threw it at him.
Clayton fell down like a log. Elsie screamed. Harold stopped
half-dead in the doorway. The girl fell on her knees beside her
husband. He lay quite still where he had fallen.
There was the sound of steps behind the door. Elsie jumped up
and ran to Harold.
"Please – please – " Her voice was low and breathless. "Go
back to your room. They'll come – they'll find you here."
Harold nodded. He took in the situation like lightning. If he
were found in Elsie's room it could only cause embarrassment and
misunderstanding. Both for her sake and his own there must be no
scandal.
As noiselessly as possible he returned to his room. Just as he
reached it, he heard the sound of an opening door.
He sat in his room for nearly half an hour, waiting. There was a
light knock at his door. Harold jumped up to open it. It was not Elsie
who came in but her mother. She looked suddenly years older. She
was deadly pale.
Harold said quickly:
"You look ill, Mrs. Rice. Can I get you something?"
She shook her head.
"No. I'm all right, really. It's only the shock. Mr. Waring, a
terrible thing has happened."
Harold asked: "Is Clayton seriously injured?" She caught her
breath. . "Worse than that. He's dead..."

IV
For a moment or two Harold was unable to speak. At last he
repeated slowly:
"Dead?"
Mrs. Rice nodded.
"The corner of that marble presse-papiers hit him right on the
temple. He is certainly dead. I have seen death often enough to
know."
"It was an accident. I can confirm Elsie's story."
Mrs. Rice said bitterly:
"Yes, and she can confirm yours. That - that is just it!"
Harold's brain, naturally a keen one, saw her point.