rustling of the paper as she unfolded it. There was a moment of perfect silence, and then he heard again the same light rustling, which sounded curiously loud and intrusive to his irritated nerves.
He turned toward her, wondering why she did not speak. She was sitting with the opened paper in her hands, her eyes riveted on it. As he drew near, he saw that the rustling rose from the fact that her hands were trembling violently, causing the paper to vibrate.
She heard his approaching step and looked up. At the sight of her face he stopped.
"What is it?" she cried, rising suddenly to her feet and holding it out toward him.
He glanced at it. It was the colonel's duplicate memorandum. Without aid or provocation the hour of revelation had come.
His first impulse was to seize it. But she drew it back from him, repeating in a high, strained voice:
"What is it? I don't understand. What is it?"
"It 's nothing—nothing but a business paper. Give it to me."
He did not know what to say or do—the scene had changed so suddenly and horribly. Her face looked at him, pale, bewildered, quivering with a terrified surmise. Without a moment's memory of what he had come for, he felt
