WHITEWASH
Her proud look was scornful and aloof. She seemed to thrust him back, back away from her. She was Vengeance Victrix! Justice outraged! A thrill as of impending danger electrified him.
He got up, and opening the door, called for Gustave in no pleasant tones.
A prompt "Oui, monsieur, tout de suite, monsieur!" came from below, and the waiter sprang up the steps and stood, all attention.
"Tell madame to send me up a bottle of whiskey," he ordered, shortly, and stepped back.
Gustave obeyed with alacrity, and presently returned with the bottle and a corkscrew. "A siphon?—no? A soda?—no?—bien!" and he skipped lightly from the lowering presence.
Valdeck poured out a full three fingers and tossed it down. He was not a drinking man, and he gagged at the sharp, burning taste. But his nerve had been taxed to the uttermost, and the stiff dose barely restored his mental equilibrium.
The early twilight had already settled down. The room was mysterious with dusk. Outside, the world was blue and strange, with squares
