She turned with an effort. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. “I was hoping to be able to secure a few minutes’ conversation with you, Miss Pellissier. Lucy’s solos were exquisite in their precision and expression.
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