"Yes--just like the other."
Then I remembered, and I caught his arm and drew him down to me.
"Godfrey," I whispered, "whose voice was it--or did I dream it
--something about a woman?"
"You didn't dream it--it was Rogers--he's almost hysterical. We'll
get the story, as soon as he quiets down."
Someone called him from the door, and he turned away, leaving me
staring blankly at nothing. So there had been a woman in Vantine's
life! Perhaps that was why he had never married. What ugly skeleton
was to be dragged from its closet?
But if a woman killed Vantine, the same woman also killed d'Aurelle.
Where was her hiding-place? From what ambush did she strike?
I glanced about the room, as a tremor of horror seized me. I arose,
shaking, from the chair and groped my way toward the door. Godfrey
heard me coming, swung around, and, with one glance at my face, came
to me and caught me by the arms.
"What is it, Lester?" he asked.
"I can't stand it here," I gasped. "It's too horrible!"
"Don't think about it. Come out here and have another drink."
He led me into the hall, and a second glass of brandy gave me back
something of my self-control. I was ashamed of my weakness, but when
I glanced at Godfrey, I saw how white his face was.
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