Following his passive policy, the adventurer sat silently, stealing oblique glances at his companion as she nervously unfolded the wrappings of the coveted pictures.

There was a gasp, a low moan, as the woman's head fell back.
Alan Hawke's strong arms were clasped round her, as she leaned back helplessly in her fauteuil.

But a smile of secret triumph was on his face as he quickly bore the helpless form to an anteroom at once opened by the frightened ushers.

Berthe Louison's face was corpse-like in its pallor, as she lay there upon a divan, her fingers still clutching the photograph.
"There is a physician near by," hazarded a sympathetic woman who had crowded into the room.

The music had stopped with a crash.
"Summon him at once!" energetically ordered Hawke.