ore
he turned to leave his room for breakfast. As he did so he stooped and
picked up an open letter lying on the floor near the door.

His brain was dazed and still surging with the terrible thoughts which
had agonized him the night before. He was as in a dream, and was only
vaguely conscious of the fugitive letter. He was wondering whether he
would go at once to Jasmine or wait until he had finished breakfast.
Opening the door of his room, he saw the maid entering to Jasmine with
a gown over her arm.

No, he would not go to her till she was alone, till she was dressed and
alone. Then he would tell her all, and take her in his arms, and talk
with her--talk as he had never talked before. Slowly, heavily, he went
to his study, where his breakfast was always eaten. As he sat down he
opened, with uninterested inquiry, the letter he had picked up inside
the door of his room. As he did so he vaguely wondered why Krool had
overlooked it as he passed in and out. Perhaps Krool had dropped it.
His eyes fell on the opening words... His face turned ashen white. A
harsh cry broke from him.

At eleven o'clock to the minute Ian Stafford entered Byng's mansion and
was being taken to Jasmine's sitting-room, when Rudyard appeared on the
staircase, and with a peremptory gesture waved the servant away. Ian
was suddenly conscious of a terrible change in Rudyard's appearance.
His face was haggard and his warm colour had given place to a strange
blackish tinge which seemed to underlie the pallor--the deathly look to
be found in the faces of those stricken with a mortal disease. All
strength and power seemed to have gone from the face, leaving it tragic
with uncontrolled suffering. Panic emotion was uppermost, while
desperate and reckless purpose was in his eyes. The balance was gone
from the general character and his natural force was like some great
gun loose from its fastenings on the deck of a sea-stricken ship. He
was no longer the stalwart Outlander who had done such great work in
South Africa and had such power in political London and in
international finance. The demoralization which had stealthily gone on
for a number of years was now suddenly a debacle of will and body. Of
the superb physical coolness and intrepid mind with which he had sprung
upon the stage of Covent Garden Opera House to rescue Al'mah nothing
seemed left; or, if it did remain, it was shocked out of its bearings.
His eyes were almost glassy as he looked at Ian St