Standing beyond the entrance, and watching her unseen, while she paused for an instant in the crowded lobby, Adams felt again the strange stir of emotion he had experienced when he looked at her the evening before under the lamplight in his study.  In a single vivid instant he saw her winking diamonds, her rouged cheeks, the nervous flutter that shook her fragile figure, and the consuming fire which was destroying the appealing prettiness of her face.  Then he looked deeper still to the naked terrified soul of her, caught in a web from which, because of her weakness, there could be no escape.

There was no room in his heart now for any other feeling than one of agonised compassion, and as she came through the doorway he touched her arm and spoke in a voice which had the sound of a caress.  “I’ve just had bad news, Connie, so I came to find you.”

She started violently, her hand dropped from her companion’s arm, and she stood trembling from head to foot like a blade of grass that is shaken by a high wind.  “What do you mean?  What is it?” she demanded.

After lifting his hat to Brady he had not noticed him again, and now he bent upon his wife a look of gentle, if unyielding, authority.  “I’ll tell you presently—­in the carriage,” he said, drawing her wrap more closely about her throat.  “I have one waiting at the corner.”

He saw her look at him in a frightened hesitation; saw, too, that even in the quiver of her alarm she had taken in the unflattering details of his appearance—–­ his ordinary business overcoat, the blue silk muffler about his neck, and even the bespattered condition of his rubber shoes.  For an instant she glanced uncertainly at Brady’s immaculate evening dress showing beneath his open fur-lined overcoat, and knowing her as he did, Adams read her appreciation of the contrast as plainly as if it had been written in her face.

But he was not moved by the knowledge of her criticism, nor did it shake him in the least from that penetrating vision he had attained.  The instinct for battle was alive and quick within him—­if Connie was to be saved he knew that he must fight single-handed with the powers of evil for her soul.  And fight he would—­it was the end for which a man was born—­that he might overcome and so justify the spirit about the brute.

Her hand hung at her side, and taking it in his, he slipped it under his arm with a possessive air, while she made to Brady some hurried excuses in a trembling voice.  For a moment still she hung back, but Adams drew her gently with him, and after the first few steps, she recovered herself and walked rapidly to the waiting carriage.  Inside she shrank back immediately into a corner from which, when they had rolled off, she sent forth a nervous question.  “What is it?  Tell me what it is?” she asked.