“What is it, Jack? I will see! Oh, my God!”
Kate Vallon pulled herself together by strong will power.
“Who is it? Take off her mask!”
“I—oh, I can’t! Get Locke—do, Kate!”
Kate ran through the rooms, and though she didn’t see Locke just then, she saw Henry Post and bade him go at once to the smoking room.
He did so, and Kate continued her hunt for Charley, trying to keep from screaming out.
“What is it?” Post asked, coming into the dimly lighted room.
“Something terrible,” Henderson said, gravely. “See here, Post, this woman is dead. I’ve felt her heart—and I tell you, man, she’s dead.”
“Who is she?”
“I’ve no idea. A stranger. I wouldn’t raise her mask when Kate was here, but I’ve done so now, and I don’t know her.”
“My heavens! What shall we do? What ought we to do?”
“First get Locke. Also Chinese Charley. And as you go out, shut the door. I don’t fancy being here alone—but you must shut the door to keep the women out. Then—oh, I don’t know what then! Get Locke first.”
Henry Post gone, Henderson again looked at the woman’s features. She was beautiful, save for an awful wound where something had crashed down on her temple, and had surely killed her.
“What a strange accident!” Henderson thought. “If she had fallen against a fender now—but there’s no mantelpiece in this room. I wonder if there’s a doctor here. I ought to call one. It can do no harm to leave the poor thing alone for a minute—I won’t go past the door.”
