could do--absolutely nothing. She had given her
orders, and they must be obeyed. He returned to the Quai Massena, to
the shore of the sea; but he walked nervously now, in a world that, as
far as he was concerned, was starless and colorless. He had thought at
first, naturally enough, that Hamilton was in some way concerned; but
he dismissed that now as wholly unplausible. Instead of running away,
in that case, she would have sent for him. It was decidedly more
likely that this was some strange whimsy springing from within herself.

In looking back at the last few days, he recalled now that upon several
occasions she had acted in a way not quite like herself. Last night,
for instance, she had been disturbed. Again, it was most unusual for
her not to dine with him. He had accepted her excuse that she was
tired; but now he blamed himself for not having seen through so
artificial an excuse, for not having detected that something else was
troubling her.

She had run away as if in fear. She had not dared even to talk over
with him the cause for her uneasiness. And he--blind fool that he
was--had not detected anything unusual. He had gone off mooning,
leaving her to fight her own fight. He had been so confoundedly
self-satisfied and content because she was here with him, where
heretofore he had always been alone, that he had gone stony blind to
her comfort. That was the crude fact.

However, accusing himself did not bring him any nearer an explanation
of her strange conduct. She would not have left him unless she had
felt herself in some danger. If Hamilton were eliminated, who then
remained by whom she could feel menaced? Clearly it must be himself.

The conclusion was like a blow in the face. It stunned him for a
moment, and then left his cheeks burning. If she had scuttled away
from him like a frightened rabbit, it could be for only one reason;
because he had not been able to conceal the truth. And he had thought
that he had succeeded in keeping the danger to himself.

He turned in the direction of the Hotel d'Angleterre. He did not
intend to try to see her. He wished only to be a little nearer.
Surely there was no harm in that. The boulevard had become deserted,
and he was terribly lonesome out here alone. The old black dog that
had pounced upon him in Paris came back and hugged him closer.

He squared his shoulders. He must shake himself free of that. The
thing to keep in mind was that he did