"She says it's that rotten scene between Hawtry and Height that's killed
her, and she is right. I felt her die right there by my side," Mr.
Vandeford answered.

"You two don't think she would really put an end to--to herself about a
play, do you?" demanded Mr. Farraday, and he fairly staggered as he
asked the question. Then not waiting for an answer, he began to run
toward the entrance of the hotel half a block ahead. Just as he was
turning into the doors with Mr. Vandeford closely following, an Italian
wheel-chair boy darted out of the dusk of his stand, and plucked the
latter by the sleeve; then together they went racing back the way Mr.
Vandeford had come.

Half way down the long arbor, dusky under its vines, Mr. Farraday met
Miss Lindsey, and in the subdued light they paused and looked into each
other's faces; then entirely to the surprise of them both, they went
into each other's arms and clung together like two frightened children.
Miss Lindsey was smothering sobs which made her tender breast storm
against Mr. Farraday's, in whose own a heart was racing with terror.

"I don't blame her; it was loathsome, and it was about her own
grandmother," Miss Lindsey managed to say in a fierce, beautiful voice.

"You don't think, do you, that--" Mr. Farraday was gasping as he held
Miss Lindsey still tighter against the racing heart, which was beginning
to slow down and pound against hers with a slightly different speed.
However, the terror in his voice made Miss Lindsey press him to her with
sustaining closeness.

"She's Southern and different, and I don't know what to think," she was
saying, and in the absorption of their terror they failed to notice that
Miss Hawtry passed them not six feet away in her wicker chair.

And while they clung to each other and enjoyed their fright and anxiety
together, Miss Hawtry went into the telephone-booth and got a
long-distance connection with Mr. Weiner in New York in an incredibly
short time. Their conversation was almost as incredibly short in view of
its portentousness, but while it lasted, Mr. Gerald Height and Mr.
William Rooney had been added to the group of anxiety under the arbor,
and they were all in close conclave, though not in embrace, when Miss
Hawtry returned to them, walking with cool determination in every step.

"Mr. Farraday," Miss Hawtry said, with a serenity in her rich voice and
manner, "I will have to tell you as Mr. Vandeford's partner in 'The
Purple Slipp