In a sudden anguish of despair he flung himself face downward on the steps and gave way to his anguish. There was no one to see and no one to hear. All the doubts and discouragements, the humiliations and disappointments, through which he had passed to win her, came back to mock him, now he had lost her. The world had suddenly become an intolerable vacuum in which he gasped frantically for breath. What was the use in going on? Why not put an end to everything? He could make it appear an accident. Nobody would be the wiser. The temptation was growing stronger every second, when he suddenly remembered Miss Isobel. "I forgot she was waiting," he muttered, stumbling into the sitting-room and fumbling for the telephone. "Miss Nell said I was to keep her from being anxious--she wanted me to comfort her. But what in hell can I say!" CHAPTER 25 At nine-thirty Edwin came in and passed up the creaking stairs. Ten minutes later Cass limped by the door, stopping a moment in the pantry to get a bite to eat. Quin sat motionless in the dark sitting-room and made no sign. He was waiting for Rose, with a dumb dependence the strongest man feels for the understanding feminine in times of crisis. When he heard her cheerful voice calling good night to Fan Loomis, the clock was just striking ten. "Quin! What is it?" she cried in alarm the moment she saw his face. "Is anybody dead?" "Worse! She's run away to get married!" "Not Myrna?" "No. Miss Nell. She left to-night for Chicago to marry Phipps!" "But she can't!" cried Rose wildly. "It's got to be stopped. He's not fit to marry anybody! We've got to stop her!" "I tell you, it's too late! She left on the eight-o'clock train." "Who said so? Are you sure? Do the Bartletts know?" "Nobody knows but you and me; nobody must know--yet. Maybe she'll change her mind." "But the Bartletts will miss her. Have they called up?" "I 'phoned Miss Isobel that she was all right and she'd telephone in the morning. All right! Good God, Rose, can't we do something?" "If I could get Harold Phipps's address I'd send him a telegram that would scare the wits out of him." Quin brushed the suggestion aside. "It's no use wasting time on him; we've got to reach her." "But how can we? Let me think. Do you suppose I could send her a telegram to be delivered on the train? _Anything_ that would make her wait until somebody could get to her." "I'll get to her," Quin cried. "I'll search every hotel in Chicago. You send the telegram and I'll start on the next train." A hurried consultation of time-tables showed that a Pennsylvania train left in ten minutes, and was due in Chicago the next morning at seven-thirty. "You can't make that," said Rose, but even as she spoke Quin was rushing for the door. "Have you got enough money?" she called after him. His meteor flight was checked. Ramming his hands in his pockets, he pulled out a handful of silver.