“So’m I. Well, after twenty, nowadays, one gets fed up with dancing.”
“Nonsense, lots of old ones love it. I never was keen about it. Want to sit out a while?”
“Yes, but not with you! Find Jack Henderson for me, won’t you? He’s a Continental Soldier.”
Not at all minding Kate’s candor, Locke went after the man she preferred. He looked about in the rooms, and then went downstairs in his search. The staircase was crowded, and as he passed a “Winter,” he heard her say, “How very warm it is—I must have some air!”
He turned to see if he could be of assistance, but others were nearer her, so he went on.
He found Henderson and sent him to Kate.
“My, but I’m glad to be summoned,” the cheery Henderson said, as he reached her. “I didn’t dare intrude till I was sent for.”
After a few moments they concluded the room was too crowded for chat, and they started for a tiny balcony that gave from a rear window.
“What’s that?” cried Henderson, as they passed through the little smoking room, dimly lighted and now deserted.
“What’s what?”
“That on the floor, behind the table!”
“Looks like a pillow from a couch,” and Kate glanced toward some gay colored silk that lay in folds.
“It isn’t! Kate—stay back!”
Henderson took another step, and gave a startled exclamation.
“Keep back, I tell you, Kate. There’s been some awful accident. Call some one—some man. Call Locke and Post first. Wait, don’t raise a general alarm. Get that Chinese servant.”
