So this was to be the end! How quickly his house of cards had fallen! How completely had the fabric of a wonderful dream vanished to nothing! It was all coming over him strongly now for the first time as he reacted from the absorbing incidents of the past hour! Fool! Sara Van Valkenberg had characterized him unerringly. He was all of that and worse. And yet--she had done her part to make him one. He could understand exactly how Anne Wellington must have felt in view of Sara's representations to her, concerning his presence in the house, and certainly his own asinine attitude could have led the girl to believe nothing save that he had made his acceptance of employment 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.