“By watching him until the moment he makes the attempt, and then rushing up and telling him that I'd renew our engagement. That would stop him, and gain time for me to manage so that he'd fall in love with some other girl and release me of his own accord.” “But think a moment. You can watch him until the opera is out and perhaps for some time later. But if he means to die he certainly has a sufficient share of good manners to induce him to die quietly in his own home. So he'll eventually go home. When his door is locked, how are you going to keep your eye on him, and how can you rush to him at the proper moment?” “I never thought of that.” “No, you're a woman.” She proceeded to do some thinking there upon the stairs. “Oh,” she said, finally, “I know what to do. I'll follow him until he does go home, to make sure he doesn't attempt anything before that time, and then I'll tell the police. They'll watch him.” “You'll probably get Mr. Tom Appleton into some very embarrassing complications by so doing.” “What if I do,” she said, heroically, “if I save his life? Now, will you assist me to watch him? I'll need an escort in the street, of course.” “I put myself at your command from now henceforth, if only for the joy of the time that I am thus privileged to pass with you.” She smiled pleasantly, and with pleasure, trusting to her veil to hide the facial indication of her feelings. But Haslam's trained gray eye noted the smile, and also what kind of smile it was, and the discovery had a potent effect upon him. It deprived him momentarily of the power of speech, and he looked vacantly at her while colour came and went in his face. Then he regained control of himself and he sighed audibly, while she dropped her eyes. They were still standing upon the stairs, heedless of the confusion of vocal sounds that arose from the lobby strollers, from the boys selling librettos, from the people returning from the vestibule in a thick stream, from the musicians afar in the orchestra, tuning their instruments, from the many sources that provide the delightful hubbub of the entr'acte. “Hush!” said Amy to Haslam. “Stand in front of me, so that Tom won't see me if he looks up here as he passes. He's coming this way.” Young Appleton, chaffing with the persons whom he had met at the exit, was sharing in the general movement from the byways of the lobby to the middle entrance of the parquet. The electric bell in the vestibule had sounded the signal that the third act was to begin. Mr. Hinrichs had returned to the director's stand in the orchestra and was raising his baton. Arrived at the middle entrance, Appleton raised his hat to those with whom he had been talking, as if not intending to go in just then. Mr. Hinrichs's baton tapped upon the stand, the music began, and the curtain rose. “Why doesn't he go in?” whispered Amy, alluding to Appleton.