CHAPTER XIX 

For the Princess it was a day full of excitements. The Count had only just reluctantly withdrawn, and Jeanne had gone to her room under the plea of fatigue, when Forrest was shown in. She started at the look in his drawn face. 

"Nigel," she exclaimed hastily, "is everything all right?" 

He threw himself into a chair. 

"Everything," he answered, "is all wrong. Everything is over." 

The Princess saw then that he had aged during the last few days, that this man whose care of himself had kept him comparatively youthful looking, notwithstanding the daily routine of an unwholesome life, was showing signs at last of breaking down. There were lines about his eyes, little baggy places underneath. He dragged his feet across the carpet as though he were tired. The Princess pushed up an easy-chair and went herself to the sideboard. 

"Give me a little brandy," he said, "or rather a good deal of brandy. I need it." 

The Princess felt her own hand shake. She brought him a tumbler and sat down by his side. 

"You had to kill him?" she asked, in a whisper. "Is it that?" 

Forrest set down his glass--empty. 

"No!" he answered. "We were going to, when a mad woman who lives there got into the place and found us out. We had them safe, the two of them, when the worst thing happened which could have befallen us. Andrew de la Borne broke in upon us." 

The Princess listened with set face. 
What did she look at?
She started at the look in his drawn face