She reeled, and he put her into the chair. Her head fell limply back, and her pallid face looked up at him with the weary eyes closed. But there was rest and peace on it, and it was still very beautiful.
Some one was approaching in haste, and he drew a screen before her.
XIV
THE BLONDE WOMAN
A woman entered.
"Mr. Sharpless—the American consul?"
she asked, while crossing the threshold. The consul bowed.
"Can you reach my husband at Kobe—by telegraph?"
"I think so. Who is your husband?"
He took up a writing-pad as he spoke.
"Lieutenant Pinkerton of the ."
"One moment, for God's sake!"
It was too late. The eyes of the little woman in the chair were fixed on his. They even tried to smile a little, wearily, at the poor result of his compassionate lying. She shook her head for silence.
