salon overlooking the valley was empty and the bare dining room and the small room under the stairway. He started up the stairs and was half way to the top when he heard below him a slight scuffling sound, among the dead leaves. Turning he saw Miss Fosdick. She had come out of the salon and was trying to escape before he discovered her.
"Miss Fosdick," he called out. "I've been searching for you."
She halted and stood against the wall without looking at him. She had in her hand the worn handbag. The black dress was covered with dust to the knees and her hat had slipped a little over one ear. She was flushed and trembling and her brown hair was all in disarray.
He came down the stairs toward her. "I've been looking for you," he said. "I've been twice before to call at the villa. Mrs. Weatherby told me you had gone off on a holiday." He tried to put her at her ease by behaving as if there was nothing in the least strange in finding her thus. "I really wanted to see you again."
She began suddenly to cry. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to see anyone. I only want to die. I'm useless and no good to anyone. I'm better out of the way. I ought to kill myself but I can't even do that properly."
He had arrived in time. She had been thinking of suicide.
Without quite knowing what he was doing he slipped an arm gently about her shoulders. She did not protest or draw away from him.
