“Promise,” she gently insisted. “Anyhow, I’ll promise for you. And you’ll come back to me, won’t you? Yes, you will.” She pressed her lips to his cold cheek. “You shall--you must!” With the same gentle insistence she led him out of the room and through the tiny entrance hall. As if he had been a small child going to a New Year’s party she herded him into the taxi. As she closed the door upon him, she put her head through the lowered window with a little laugh that was almost gay. “Something tells me that Providence is working for us. Promise me, darling, that you’ll take a taxi and come straight back home?” As the taxi began to move she ran beside it. “Promise?” “I’ll do my best,” he muttered as the taxi began to outpace her. LVIII There now remained for Helen the task of awaiting the arrival of Saul Hartz. Four o’clock was the hour that he was due. The rather tiny drawing room in which she intended to receive him was quite a delight to the eye. It was choice, seductive, trim. Much care and taste had been lavished on the decorations, the hangings, the general scheme. A bright fire burned on a cosy hearth of blue and white Dutch tiles. Everything was a harmony of delicate blues and greens. No room could have been more civilized. It was really fantastic that a creature like herself, one whose mind was humane, creative, essentially modern, essentially sane, should have invited a man to such a room in order to murder him. That aspect of the case didn’t bear thinking about. And with a courage that showed no sign of failing now the crisis was at hand she put it away from her. She went to the safe in the other room to procure the phial. But as she was in the act of unlocking its heavy door, a paralyzing thought flashed along her nerves. Suppose ... suppose ... the phial was not there! It was more than likely that John had now reached a state of mind when he could carry this deadly thing about with him for use upon himself. It was such a simple, convenient mode of exit from the world. As the door of the safe yielded to the key, she had a thrill of pure fright. This new hypothesis had a touch of inevitability that appalled her. But the fear instantly passed. There, in the place in which she had last seen it, was the gun-metal case. A careful examination told her that as far as she could learn the apparatus was in working order. She took it accordingly to the drawing room and set it on the chimneypiece in a place easily accessible, behind a charming Wedgwood vase. Next it was a pretty little French clock which soon chimed half past three. She then took up a piece of needlework and began with skilful fingers to weave a mosaic of colored silks. All too soon, however, she discovered that she was not quite superhuman. After five minutes or so she was compelled to put it down. Every nerve in her body was in a state of mutiny.