She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. “I’m not going to kill you, John. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. " He laughed and pushed back his chair. Shakily, she rose with the sword and drove it through Rhea’s heart. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. CHAPTER XI. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present.
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