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 Paul, who in the confusion had escaped attention, slunk down the stairs. Lighting another cigarette, he strolled slowly out of the house.

Whew! he muttered. What an escape!

He rejoined Consuelo and Miss Graves.

You can't see him now, he informed the child. It's impossible. Suppose you let me take you home.

Then I'll lose him again, Consuelo sobbed. I can't bear to lose him again.

I'm afraid we've all lost him, Paul asserted gravely.

What do you mean? Has he killed himself?

Paul reflected. His thoughts rapidly flew back to the evening he had discovered Gunnar in the furnace-room. He recalled, as in a daze, the occasions on which they had met since. And, finally, a vision of what he had just seen in the inn passed before his eyes. It was all too much for his understanding. He mopped his perspiring face with his handkerchief.

I don't know, he replied.

New York

October 16, 1924