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“Oh, Mademoiselle, the glass is broken. Quelle horreur!”

“Bother the glass.” Eleanor’s foot came down with an unmistakable stamp. “Tell me at once of Senator Carew’s death. I cannot believe it!”

“It is only too true,” Annette was a privileged character and deeply resented being hurried, also her volatile French nature enjoyed creating a sensation. She had eagerly read the morning paper, and had refrained from telling Eleanor the news until she could get her undivided attention. “Senator Carew was found dead in his carriage early this morning on his return from the dance at Mrs. Owen’s”—Annette had no reason to complain, Eleanor was giving her full attention to the story—“he had been stabbed.”

The maid’s hand accidentally touched Eleanor’s bare neck, and she felt the taut muscles quiver. Covertly she glanced into the mirror and studied the lovely face. But Eleanor’s expression told her nothing. Her cheeks were colorless and her eyes downcast.

After a barely perceptible pause Annette continued her story. “The coachman has been arrested——” a knock interrupted her and she hastened to open the door, returning in an instant with a note.