None responded to her incoherent words. A cold chill encircled her. In the hot studio she shivered as in wintry weather. "What has happened to Lord Winborough? Oh--where's? I want him quickly. I must see him, I tell you. Where is he?" Jack rose from his chair. "Go away--go away!" he breathed. "I--I can't--you mustn't know. Go away!" Evarne was fast losing her forced calmness. She was assailed by a desperate longing to gain new courage from the ever-tender eyes of the man who loved her. "I will go! I want to! I'm frightened here! But where is Geoff? Tell me, Jack--tell me! Send for him!" "Geoff! Geoff!" wailed Pallister. Evarne gave a violent start, and without moving from the doorway against which she was leaning, she bent her body forward in Pallister's direction. "Why do you also call for him?" she queried. The only response was a farther lament. "Geoff, come back! Oh, Geoff, how could I leave you?" Still bending forward, she swayed round towards Jack. Then her reluctant glance wandered from him to the form upon the couch. The mask had been removed, exposing a terrible face beneath, distorted somewhat, disfigured with fearsome livid patches and blue swollen lips. Around the mouth and nose clung mucus froth. Evarne choked, struggling with sickness; but suddenly she sprang forward and seized Jack by the shoulders with unnatural strength. "If you don't tell me where Geoff is, I'll--I'll----" The menacing tones ceased abruptly, as Jack put out his shaking hands and grasped her wrists. "I see you must be told. Well, then--this is it! He took his cousin's place, Evarne, and we--we left him alone--and--and something happened!" For one long minute absolute silence reigned within the room. Pallister ceased sobbing and held his breath. Evarne did not speak, but stared at Jack with unwinking gaze. He saw a fearsome change steal over her face. Every feature seemed to alter, to be transformed under his very eyes, becoming unrecognisable--horrible! Without warning, she pushed him violently away, and with a few rapid steps was by the side of the dead man. She laid her hand upon the fair hair. "So it is you I have killed, Geoff!" she said, quietly enough. "God in Heaven, what?" shouted Jack at the top of his voice. Evarne did not speak, but suddenly plunging her hands through her damp hair she began to scream--wild, piercing shrieks that chilled the blood of those who heard. Nothing could stay her--until her voice gave way. Still she screamed on spasmodically, producing merely horrible and discordant sounds. Loud shouts arose from the street. A policeman's shrill whistle blew frantically again and again. And then Evarne commenced to laugh, a hoarse, derisive gurgle. "Do you hear that laughter?" she cried huskily. "It is Morris Kenyon. It is funny for him, isn't it? And it's--yes--I see--that cat-faced goddess--Sekhet! So you all think the game is played out, do you? We'll see."