"The very thing that you must not do—that you can not do," he said firmly; and then, seized with an inspiration, he added: "Listen—listen to me, Mrs. Bloodgood, I am taking you to Rita’s; if you must go to him, go with her. Two women can go; one would cause a great scandal. You can not put that on him—you must think of him now. We are going to Rita’s—Rita’s!" he added, putting his lips to her ears to make her hear him. He put his hand on her shoulder and forced her gently back. She held her clasped hands rigidly strained between her knees, staring out beyond the confines of the carriage. "He is not dead," she said in a whisper; "he is wounded." "As soon as we get to Rita’s," he continued reassuringly, "I will telephone. I’ll find out everything." "Wounded," she repeated, nodding—without hearing him. "If he is, we three can go—it will seem quite natural," he said hastily, eying nervously her dry, uncomprehending grief, fearing the coming outburst of realization. "Almost there," he said, looking out of the window. "Hold on to yourself. Be game. There are always a few persons below." She did not answer, but her lips curled slightly in contempt, and she put her hand spasmodically to her throat. "You’re right, the whole thing may be false—a wild rumor," he said quickly, talking to her as to a child. "A fake story—who knows? See, there are no details. Here we are. A little courage! Go right into the elevator." He signaled the driver to wait, and followed her hastily into the elevator, standing between her bowed figure and the boy. Mrs. Kildair was in the studio, pacing the floor; and at the first glance each saw that she knew the report, and that it was true. Mrs. Bloodgood crumpled on the floor, without consciousness. "My smelling-salts are on my bureau," said Mrs. Kildair quickly. "Lift her on the sofa first, and then get them." "Is it true?" he said, raising the slender, lifeless body. "Yes." "Dead?" "Yes." "When did it happen?" "At two o’clock." "She wishes to go to him," he said warningly. "The carriage is below. She has her trunks. She was to have met him at the station. What shall I do?" "She must be gotten back to her house as soon as possible," said Mrs. Kildair with energy. "The trunks must return at once. Everything hangs on a hair; I know Bloodgood." She cast a glance at the still inanimate body and added: "Wait. Spirits of ammonia will be better. I’ll get it." Mrs. Bloodgood returned to consciousness slowly, looking from one to the other with a dazed, pleading look. "Then it is so," she said at last. The two looked at her without being able to answer. Suddenly she bounded up erect, her fists striking her forehead. "It is I who have done it!" she cried, and for the second time fell back lifeless on the floor. "Go down now; send the trunks back," said Mrs. Kildair to Beecher. "Tell him to do it as quickly as possible—no, tell him nothing. Go quickly."