“Come and sit down!” the girl repeated.  “I expect he’ll be in before long.  They’re all mad about this diamond draw.  The whole town is buzzing with it.  The races aren’t in it.  Sit down and I’ll get you something.”

She drew Sylvia into a small inner sanctum and there left her, sitting exhausted in a wooden armchair.  She returned presently with a tray which she set in front of her, observing practically, “That’s what you’re wanting.  Have a good feed, and when you’ve done you’d better go up and lie down till he comes.”

She went back to her office then, closing the door between, and Sylvia was left to recover as best she might.  She forced herself after a time to eat and drink, reflecting that physical weakness would utterly unfit her for the task before her.  She hoped with all her heart that Guy would come soon—­soon.  There was a night train back to Ritzen.  She had ascertained that at the station.  They might catch that.  The diamond draw was still two days away.  She prayed that he had not yet staked anything upon it, that when he came the money might be still in his possession.

She finished her meal and felt considerably revived.  For a while she sat listening to the hubbub of strange voices without, then the fear that her presence might be forgotten by the busy occupant of the office moved her to rise and open the intervening door.

The girl was still there.  She glanced round with the same alert expression.  “That you, Mrs. Ranger?  He hasn’t come in yet.  But you go up and wait for him!  It’s quieter upstairs.  I’ll tell him you’re here as soon as he comes in.”

She did not want to comply, but certainly the little room adjoining the office was no place for private talk, and she dreaded the idea of meeting Guy before the curious eyes of strangers.  He would be startled; he would be ashamed!  None but herself must see him in that moment.

So, without protest, she allowed herself to be conducted upstairs to the room he had engaged, her friend in the office promising faithfully not to forget to send him up to her at once.

The room was at the top of the house, a bare apartment but not uncomfortable.  It possessed a large window that looked across the wide street.

She sat down beside it and listened to the tramping crowds below.

Her faintness had passed, but she was very tired, overwhelmingly so.  Very soon her senses became dulled to the turmoil.  She suffered herself to relax, certain that the first sound of a step outside would recall her.  And so, as night spread over the town, she sank into sleep, lying back in the cane-chair like a worn-out child, her burnished hair vivid against the darkness beyond.

She did not wake at the sound of a step outside, or even at the opening of the door.  It was no sound that aroused her hours later, but a sudden intense consciousness of expediency, as if she had come to a sharp comer that it needed all her wits to turn in safety.  She started up with a gasp.  “Guy!” she said.  And then, as her dazzled eyes saw more clearly, a low, involuntary exclamation of dismay.  “Ah!”