nt at The Crags
the excuse for a romantic desire to be near her. Yet he had not
designedly deceived her. He had, of course, desired to be near her; as
to that he would have been willing to attempt expedients tenfold more
daring than serving as her chauffeur. That the main object of his
sojourn there did not concern her was not his fault. And he had not
concealed that object from her with any idea of enlisting her interest
under false pretences. Ah, how he should like to tell her that
now--and make her believe it!

But that opportunity had vanished, if indeed it had ever existed,
during those trying moments in Koltsoff's room. In any event there was
no opportunity now. Well? Once more his hand sought his bag. He
might as well clear out forthwith and have an end of it all. But no;
he could not, somehow. Sara's warning flashed through his mind.
"Don't you dare go away!" What had she meant? Was there really some
hope, which she had divined where he saw nothing but blankness? It was
but a faint spark of hope but it kindled an irresistible desire to see
Anne Wellington again--not to speak to her, but to fix his eyes upon
her face and burn every detail of her features into his mind. He
fought against it. He picked up his bag and walked toward the gate.
But it was like trying to dam a flood.

As in a daze he tossed the bag back among the hydrangeas and a few
minutes later found himself in the house once more, moving slowly
through the crowded halls. A few of the guests were departing. At one
end his questing eyes found Anne. She was shaking hands with an
elderly couple and talking over her shoulder to a group of men. She
was smiling but her face was feverish. For several minutes Armitage
stood watching her and then resolutely facing about, he went out of
doors intent upon quitting the place for good and all. As he passed
around the side of the house he looked up instinctively and found
himself under Koltsoff's window. Once he saw the Russian's shadow pass
the illuminated square. A thought occurred to him and then somehow
flashed out of his mind. It left him looking blankly up at that
window, vaguely trying to traverse the mental processes which had led
to the missing thought.

Then it came to him. Quickly he stepped from the path to the edge of
the cliffs, perhaps twenty feet from the side of the house and guarded
by a low iron railing. The moon, now, was well down in the western sky
and a level p