"I certainly prefer comedies to tragedies," she hazarded, and there was slight defiance in her glance at the dramatic critic. As for her voice, she wondered if it sounded as unnatural in her lover’s ears as in her own. "A tragedy is such an exception in everyday life; and when it does occur, one would rather not hear about it." "You differ from the bulk of humanity, Miss Thorne," said Mr. Hunt, good humouredly. "And I cannot agree with you that tragedy is such an exceptional thing in ordinary existence. My own belief, and it is shared by many others, is that the under-current of most lives has an element of the tragic in it. There are scores of crimes, too, that never come to light; myriads of unsuspected criminals. This I think is shown to be the case by the interest the public have for what is called the ’sensational.’ They recognize instincts they possess themselves, although those instincts may be undeveloped, or held in check." "Hunt! You suggest that we are all of us potential murderers," said Lord Vansittart, with an amused laugh. Mr. Hunt shrugged his shoulders. "I suggest nothing; I assume a Socratian attitude; I encourage others to suggest," he somewhat dryly returned. "What do you think of this much-belauded actress, Miss Thorne? I confess I am not infatuated, like the rest. She leaves me utterly cold; hasn’t the power to quicken my pulse by a single beat, even in her most impassioned moments. I was wishing just now that the part had been played by a little girl I saw for the first time the other night--singularly enough, on the very night she became the heroine of a tragedy in real life. You must have read about it, Vansittart. You are not ’one who battens on offal?’ I daresay not. Nor am I. I should not have been so interested in this affair if I had not been mixed up in it, and if a friend of mine were not destined, innocently enough, to become one of the strands of the rope which will assuredly hang the murderer, or, I should say, the murderess." "Please, Hunt, don’t let us talk of such horrible things," cried Lord Vansittart. He had seen his darling shudder. "Oh, pray go on!" said Joan, with a sudden mad effort to hear what there was to hear without a shriek of agony. So--so--something more had been discovered--was known.