Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. She felt that she was not alone. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. ” “It was a mistake,” she faltered. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. " "So far you are correct," observed Trenchard; "still, this is no secret. Dead or alive, I'll have him. You will agree with me when you have heard what I have to say.
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