Then he smiled at her again, and Beatrice, whose hand was already upon the bills, suddenly felt her knees shake.  A great black horror was upon her.  She turned and fled out of the room, past the astonished clerk, into the lift, and was downstairs on the main floor before she remembered where she was, what she had done.  The clerk, after gazing at her retreating form, hurried into the inner office.

“Young woman hasn’t bolted with anything, eh?” he asked.

Mr. Cruxhall smiled wickedly.

“Why, no,” he replied, “I guess she’ll come back!”

Tavernake left the meeting on that same afternoon with his future practically assured for life.  He had been appointed surveyor to the company at a salary of ten thousand dollars a year, and the mine in which his savings were invested was likely to return him his small capital a hundredfold.  Very kind things had been said of him and to him.

Pritchard and he had left the place together.  When they had reached the street, they paused for a moment.

“I am going to make a call near here,” Pritchard said.  “Don’t forget that we are dining together, unless you find something better to do, and in the meantime”—­he took a card from his pocket and handed it to Tavernake—­“I don’t know whether I am a fool or not to give you this,” he added.  “However, there it is.  Do as you choose about it.”

He walked away a little abruptly.  Tavernake glanced at the address upon the card:  1134, East Third Street.  For a moment he was puzzled.  Then the light broke in upon him suddenly.  His heart gave a leap.  He turned back into the place to ask for some directions and once more stopped short.  Down the stone corridor, like one who flies from some hideous fate, came a slim black figure, with white face and set, horrified stare.  Tavernake held out his hands and she came to him with a great wondering sob.

“Leonard!” she cried.  “Leonard!”

“There’s no doubt about me,” he answered, quickly.  “Am I such a very terrifying object?”

She stood quite still and struggled hard.  By and by the giddiness passed.

“Leonard,” she murmured, “I am ill.”

Then she began to smile.

“It is too absurd,” she faltered, “but you’ve got to do it all over again."’

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Get me something to eat at once,” she begged.  “I am starving.  Somewhere where it’s cool.  Leonard, how wonderful!  I never even knew that you were in New York.”

He called a carriage and took her off to a roof garden.  There, as it was early, they got a seat near the parapet.  Tavernake talked clumsily about himself most of the time.  There was a lump in his throat.  He felt all the while that tragedy was very near.  By degrees, though, as she ate and drank, the color came back to her cheeks, the fear of a breakdown seemed to pass away.  She became even cheerful.