"Oh, leave that a bit!" The Tartar, over the back of the sofa, waved the footman off. They came towards us, and were told: "Put it there on the table." The man beside me made a show of welcoming it. He dropped the illustrated paper on my lap. "Bend down--bend down low," he whispered. I bent over the swimming page. "What will you have?" he called out to me, as the footmen were leaving the room. I tried to answer. No sound. "Oh, you prefer creme de menthe, do you?" he said quite loud. "Yes, there's creme de menthe." He filled a glass and brought it to me. "Cognac," he whispered. "It will steady you." I put my shaking lips to the glass. I did not drink. "Ah, you are afraid," he said. And he looked at me with his unhappy eyes. My hand was shaking. Some of the stuff spilt out on my new dress. "Give it to me," he said, and he drank it off--"just to show" me. I was conscious that Betty was singing--And that the door had opened. The Grey Hawk stood there with, as I thought at first, a thick-set boy dressed in a man's evening clothes. As she dismissed him I saw he was a hunchback. She shut the door behind the hunchback and the Colonel left the piano and came towards her. He was laughing. They stood and talked. "Bend down. Bend low----" the voice said in my ear. The Colonel's croaking laugh came nearer. The man at my side called out: "Look here, Colonel. No poaching on my preserves. We are deep in a discussion about Art. You're not to interrupt." "Oh, Art is it?" The old man had come behind our sofa, and was leaning down between us. I smelt a foul breath. With a sense of choking I lifted my head. The Colonel's watery eyes went from me to the strange ugly picture in the illustrated paper. I did not understand it. I do not think I would have been conscious of having looked at it, but for the expression on the Colonel's face. Bettina finished her song. They all clapped. In the buzz, Bettina raised her voice. No, no. She couldn't dance, and sing, as well as accompany herself, she said. "What time is it in?" the grey woman asked. She took Bettina's place at the piano. Still Bettina hesitated, while The Tartar urged. "Oh, _I_ don't mind," Bettina said, "if you like such babyish songs." "Of course we do,"--the Colonel went back to them. Bettina said pertly: "I should think you'd be ashamed." She stood beside the grey woman and hummed the old tune. She helped by striking a few notes. "Now!" the grey woman said to Betty. The word was echoed in my ear. "Now?" I repeated. "But first"--he caught my hand. "Bite your lip a little.... Ah! not blood." He smuggled his handkerchief to me behind the cushion. "You'll be all right," he whispered. "But I wish I could go with you! You see that I must stay behind----" "Yes, oh yes," I looked at Betty. "I must stay," he said, "to give you time. Then when I've seen you out of this ... a door open, a door shut--and I shall never see you again...."