I realised this myself, for I had heard much of the young lady’s private virtues, as well as of her great beauty and distinguished manner.  A heavy loss, indeed, but—­

“Was she alone when she fell?” I asked.

“Virtually alone.  Some persons sat on the other side of the room, reading at the big round table.  They did not even hear her fall.  They say that the band was playing unusually loud in the musicians’ gallery.”

“Are you feeling quite well, now?”

“Quite myself,” I gratefully replied as I rose slowly from the sofa.  Then, as my kind informer stepped aside, I turned to George with the proposal we should go now.

He seemed as anxious as myself to leave and together we moved towards the door, while the hum of excited comment which the intrusion of a fainting woman had undoubtedly interrupted, recommenced behind us till the whole room buzzed.

In the hall we encountered Mr. Slater, whom I have before mentioned.  He was trying to maintain order while himself in a state of great agitation.  Seeing us, he could not refrain from whispering a few words into my husband’s ear.

“The doctor has just gone up—­her doctor, I mean.  He’s simply dumbfounded.  Says that she was the healthiest woman in New York yesterday—­I think—­don’t mention it, that he suspects something quite different from heart failure.”

“What do you mean?” asked George, following the assistant manager down the broad flight of steps leading to the office.  Then, as I pressed up close to Mr. Slater’s other side, “She was by herself, wasn’t she, in the half floor above?”

“Yes, and had been writing a letter.  She fell with it still in her hand.”

“Have they carried her to her room?” I eagerly inquired, glancing fearfully up at the large semi-circular openings overlooking us from the place where she had fallen.

“Not yet.  Mr. Hammond insists upon waiting for the coroner.” (Mr. Hammond was the proprietor of the hotel.) “She is lying on one of the big couches near which she fell.  If you like, I can give you a glimpse of her.  She looks beautiful.  It’s terrible to think that she is dead.”

I don’t know why we consented.  We were under a spell, I think.  At all events, we accepted his offer and followed him up a narrow staircase open to very few that night.  At the top, he turned upon us with a warning gesture which I hardly think we needed, and led us down a narrow hall flanked by openings corresponding to those we had noted from below.  At the furthest one he paused and, beckoning us to his side, pointed across the lobby into the large writing-room which occupied the better part of the mezzanine floor.