The house was not large, but well ordered, exquisitely furnished, and there was about everything an air of elegant refinement that betokened wealth, taste and culture. It was nearly seven when I arrived, and I was gratified to learn that, with the exception of Beck, who came later, I was the only guest. Dinner was a much more stately meal at Pont Street than it had been at Staines, where very often we sat down in flannels, and I was not sorry when it was over, and I found myself free to talk alone with Ella. It was plain, from the dark rings about her eyes, that she had passed a sleepless night, and that her terrible and mysterious secret bore her down beneath its oppressive weight. Yet she had greeted me with the same joyous smile, the same hearty hand-shake as of old, and I had, while sitting at dinner chatting with her, felt myself wondering how I could ever have brought myself to utter such bitter reproaches and recriminations as I had done on the previous day. Her kiss, now that we were alone, thrilled me; her speech, soft and musical, held me enraptured by its charm. She told me, in answer to my questions, how she had fared after I left "The Nook"; how dismal the place had appeared, and how many bitter memories it would always possess for her. Then, in response to her suggestion, we walked out upon the balcony, where, under the striped awning, a table and chairs were set. Here, in the cool night air, the quiet only broken by an occasional footfall or the tinkle of a passing cab-bell, we sipped our coffee and gossiped on as lovers will. Suddenly, while she was telling me of the plans her mother had prepared for their sojourn for a couple of months at the seaside, the loud, strident cry of a running newsman broke upon our ears. At first, in the distance, the voice did not attract our attention, but when it neared us, the words, hoarse, yet indistinct, held me speechless. I sat stunned. Ella herself sprang from her chair, and leaned over the balcony, straining her ears to catch every sound of the rough, coarse voice. The man had paused for breath before the house, a bundle of papers across his shoulder, and the ominous words he shouted were,-- "Extra spe-shall! Probable war against England! Spe-shall! War against England! Startling statement! Spe-shall!" CHAPTER ELEVEN. BECK'S PROPHECY. "Hark!" gasped Ella, turning to me, pale in alarm. "What is that man crying? Listen!" Again the hoarse voice broke the silence, dear, distinct, ominous,-- "War against England! Spe-shall!" his cry being followed by the sound of hurrying feet as people rushed from their houses, purchased copies of the paper at exorbitant prices, and eagerly devoured the amazing news.