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“Hullo! What’s the matter now?”

The woman had risen, and was hurriedly throwing her cloak over her shoulders. But it was HER face that was now ashen and agitated, and we could see that her hands were trembling. Her escort was assisting her, but was evidently as astonished as ourselves. “Perhaps,” he suggested hopefully, “if you wait a minute it will pass off.”

“No, no,” she gasped, still hurriedly wrestling with her cloak. “Don’t you see I’m suffocating here–I want air. You can follow!” She began to move off, her face turned fixedly in the direction of the door. We instinctively looked there–perhaps for Tournelli. There was no one. Nevertheless, the Editor and Quartermaster had half-risen from their seats.

“Helloo!” said Manners suddenly. “There’s Tom just come in. Call him!”

Tom, evidently recalled from his brief furlough by the proprietor on account of the press of custom, had just made his appearance from the kitchen.

“Tom, where’s Tournelli?” asked the Lawyer hurriedly, but following the retreating woman with his eyes.

“Skipped, they say. Somebody insulted him,” said Tom curtly.

“You didn’t see him hanging round outside, eh? Swearing vengeance?” asked the Editor.

“No,” said Tom scornfully.

The woman had reached the door, and darted out of it as her escort paused a moment at the counter to throw down a coin. Yet in that moment she had hurried before him through the passage into the street. I turned breathlessly to the window. For an instant her face, white as a phantom’s, appeared pressed rigidly against the heavy plate-glass, her eyes staring with a horrible fascination back into the room–I even imagined at us. Perhaps, as it was evident that Tournelli was not with her, she fancied he was still here; perhaps she had mistaken Tom for him! However, her escort quickly rejoined her; their shadows passed the window together–they were gone.

Then a pistol-shot broke the quiet of the street.

The Editor and Quartermaster rose and ran to the door. Manners rose also, but lingered long enough to whisper to me, “Don’t lose sight of Tom,” and followed them. But to my momentary surprise no one else moved. I had forgotten, in the previous excitement, that in those days a pistol-shot was not unusual enough to attract attention. A few raised their heads at the sound of running feet on the pavement, and the flitting of black shadows past the windows. Tom had not stirred, but, napkin in hand, and eyes fixed on vacancy, was standing, as I had seen him once before, in an attitude of listless expectation.

In a few minutes Manners returned. I thought he glanced oddly at Tom, who was still lingering in attendance, and I even fancied he talked to us ostentatiously for his benefit. “Yes, it was a row of Tournelli’s. He was waiting at the corner; had rushed at Hays with a knife, but had been met with a derringer-shot through his hat. The lady, who, it seems, was only a chance steamer acquaintance of Hays’, thought the attack must have been meant for HER, as she had recognized in the Italian a man who had stolen from her divorced husband in the States, two years ago, and was a fugitive from justice. At least that was the explanation given by Hays, for the woman had fainted and been driven off to her hotel by the Quartermaster, and Tournelli had escaped. But the Editor was on his track. You didn’t notice that lady, Tom, did you?”

Tom came out of an abstracted study, and said: “No, she had her back to me all the time.”

Manners regarded him steadily for a moment without speaking, but in a way that I could not help thinking was much more embarrassing to the bystanders than to him. When we rose to leave, as he placed his usual gratuity into Tom’s hand, he said carelessly, “You might drop into my office to-morrow if you have anything to tell ME.”

“I haven’t,” said Tom quietly.

“Then I may have something to tell YOU.”

Tom nodded, and turned away to his duties. The Mining Secretary and myself could scarcely wait to reach the street before we turned eagerly on Manners.

“Well?”

“Well; the woman you saw was Tom’s runaway wife, and Tournelli the man she ran away with.”

“And Tom knew it?”

“Can’t say.”

“And you mean to say that all this while Tom never suspected HIM, and even did not recognize HER just now?”

Manners lifted his hat and passed his fingers through his hair meditatively. “Ask me something easier, gentlemen.”