“Sorry that I saved your life,” she said boldly. “Why should I not be? There are many who will suffer, many who will lose their lives because of your obstinacy.” “If you believe that, confide in me.” She shook her head sadly. “If only you were different!” “I am a human being,” he protested. “I have sympathies and heart. I would give my life willingly to save any carnage.” “I could never make you understand,” she murmured hopelessly. “I shall not try. I dare not risk failure. Is this room hot, or is it my fancy? Could we have a window open?” “By all means.” He crossed the room and lifted the blind from before one of the high windows which opened seawards. In the panel of the wall, between the window to which he addressed himself and the next one, was a tall, gilt mirror, relic of the days, some hundreds of years ago, when the apartment had been used as a drawing-room. Julian, by the merest accident, for the pleasure of a stolen glance at Catherine, happened to look in it as he leaned over towards the window fastening. For a single moment he stood rigid. Catherine had risen to her feet and, without the slightest evidence of any fatigue, was leaning, tense and alert, over the tray on which his untouched whisky and soda was placed. Her hand was outstretched. He saw a little stream of white powder fall into the tumbler. An intense and sickening feeling of disappointment almost brought a groan to his lips. He conquered himself with an effort, however, opened the window a few inches, and returned to his place. Catherine was lying back, her eyes half-closed, her arms hanging listlessly on either side of her chair. “Is that better?” he enquired. “Very much,” she assured him. “Still, I think that if you do not mind, I will go to bed. I am troubled with a very rare attack of nerves. Drink your whisky and soda, and then will you take me into the drawing-room?” He played with his tumbler thoughtfully. His first impulse was to drop it. Intervention, however, was at hand. The door opened, and the Princess entered with Lord Shervinton. “At last!” the former exclaimed. “I have been looking for you everywhere, child. I am sure that you are quite tired out, and I insist upon your going to bed.” “Finish your whisky and soda,” Catherine begged Julian, “and I will lean on your arm as far as the staircase.” Fate stretched out her right hand to help him. The Princess took possession of her niece. “I shall look after you myself,” she insisted. “Mr. Orden is wanted to play billiards. Lord Shervinton is anxious for a game.” “I shall be delighted,” Julian answered promptly. He moved to the door and held it open. Catherine gave him her fingers and a little half-doubtful smile. “If only you were not so cruelly obstinate!” she sighed. He found no words with which to answer her. The shock of his discovery was still upon him.