Anna the Adventuress

It was horrible, but she must do it. She sank upon her knees and

unbuttoned his coat. It was there in the breast pocket, stiff and

legal looking. She drew it out with shaking fingers. There was a great

splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. A deadly

sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. She staggered

to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. She

held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. Then

she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more

upright.

Still silence everywhere. She pulled down her veil and made her way to

the door. She turned out the electric light and gained the hall. Still

no sound. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of

the front door and looked out. There was no one to be seen. She

passed down the stairs and into the street.

She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift

level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible

faintness all the time hovered about her. Then she called a hansom and

drove home.

* * * * * "Miss Pellissier," Brendon said gently, "I am afraid that some fresh

trouble has come to you."

She smiled at him cheerfully.

"Am I dull?" she said. "I am sorry."

"You could never be that," he answered, "but you are at least more

serious than usual."

"Perhaps," she said, "I am superstitious. This is my last week at the

'Unusual,' you know. We begin rehearsing on Monday at the

'Garrick'."

"Surely," he protested, "the change is all in favour of your own

inclinations. It is your own choice, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Yes. But I believe that Mr. Earles thinks I am a little mad, and

between ourselves I am not sure about it myself. It is easy enough to

sing these little chansons in an original way--it requires a very

different sort of ability to succeed on the stage."

"You have it," he declared confidently.

She laughed altogether in her old manner.

"I wonder how it is," she exclaimed, "that my friends have so much

more confidence in me than I have in myself."

"They know you better," he declared.

"I am afraid," she answered, "that one's friends can judge only of the

externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized

only by oneself--stop."

She laid her fingers upon his arm, and they both stood still. They had

turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats

where Anna lived. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung

round the corner she had seen a strange thing. The curtains which she

had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on.

Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness.