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It was within a few minutes of one o'clock when Helen reached Brompton Square. Of the maid who opened the door she inquired eagerly for Mr. Endor.

The fever of her mind was such that it felt a keen relief from the mere fact of John being in his room at work. She flew to him. But the feeling of joy left her the moment she entered the room. He was pacing heavily up and down in a way that brought to her mind a wild animal in a cage. His hands were clenched behind him, and his eyes, rather weird in their intensity, lent a look of strangeness to a haggard face.

So strong was the thrall upon him that even Helen's sudden appearance in the room did not cause him to throw it off. She could hardly bear to see his face. It was that of a man whose nerves had been deranged by the sight of a ghost. Indeed, when he stopped at last and turned towards Helen, there was something in that face which seemed to drive the blood from her heart.

"Darling!" she gasped as her hands clasped his coat,