he blackness. She stood almost against the
door, listening and hardly breathing. All was silent. She had expected
the other to be there before her, waiting for his coming. She put out
her hand and felt about her. She touched a chair at her left and softly
laid her shawl upon it, keeping firm hold upon the keen weapon she had
carried beneath it. She listened again; still no sound. She was growing
impatient. She took a few steps forward, keeping one hand extended in
front of her to avoid collision. Then she turned and retraced her steps.

She had been very cool, thus far, but she was losing control of herself.
Why did she not come? She had said in her letter that she was
ill--pshaw! it was but a trick to arouse his sympathy. She must
come--_she must come_!

She paced back and forth in the small space which she had explored and
found free from obstruction. Three steps forward and turn--three steps
back and turn; pausing each time to hold her breath and listen, while
the fingers of her left hand involuntarily crept down and pressed
against the keen point of the dagger until it pierced through her glove
and entered the tender flesh.

Suddenly a white ray of light shot through the transom above her,
falling at an angle against a projection in the wall at her left, and
dimly illuminating the entire place. It was six o'clock, and the large
arc light just outside was turned on. Then, as she reached the door and
whirled quickly in her march, she saw her for whom she waited standing
at the extreme farther end of the long hall. Between them was what
appeared to be a narrow and ornamented archway.

She could dimly distinguish the figure clad in gray. The face, like her
own, was veiled. She noticed with quick satisfaction that her disguise
was perfect--the counterpart was exact even to the smallest detail.

Without hesitation, and concealing the dagger in the folds of her dress,
she advanced quickly and silently toward her rival, who, somewhat to
her surprise, instead of fleeing or crying out, also advanced. She was
going to try strength with her.

"I will kill her with a blow," she muttered.

They were now within a few feet of each other--the ornamented arch
exactly between them. Suddenly Evelin March snatched the dagger from its
concealment and raised it aloft to strike. As she did so her rival made
precisely the same movement, and something glittered in her hand also.
Both took a quick, forward step, and each, at the same i