Lady Tintagel turned back into the Oak Room, switched off the pale lights, gathered up her treasures, locked the despatch-box and, taking it with her, crossed the hall and slowly mounted the stairs to her bedroom. Each step meant a separate effort. The mainspring of her life was broken. This was the end. Arrived at her room, she slipped off her velvet gown, put on a soft white wrapper, and laid herself down upon the bed.
“‘They went away toward the sunrising,’” she quo............