She lay back, wrapped in a rug--a cold dawn was breaking--and closed her eyes. The rush and excitement of the three days had told upon her. She had no clear recollection of having slept for any length of time or eaten at any definite period. She had done work among stricken wives and mothers that Belton village would never forget, but she had not realised this. All her head and heart were filled by the mighty knowledge that after five years of married life she and her husband had found one another. Meanwhile there was silence round the pit-head. "Vick," said Daphne, suddenly fearful, "go and find Mr Walker, or some one, and ask when Sir John will be up." Mr Vick, who had been dozing comfortably at his wheel, clambered down into the muddy road and departed as bidden. Ten minutes later he returned falteringly. "Mr Walker has just gone down the pit again, my lady," he said. "There has been a slight explosion of coal-dust, I was to tell you. Nothing serious--just a flash and a spit in a holler place in the roof, the message said." "Is Sir John down there?" Cold fear gripped Daphne's heart. "Yes, my lady." "Is he safe, do you know?" "I couldn't say, my lady," replied Vick doggedly. "I'll inquire." He turned away, glad to escape, with the brisk demeanour of one anxious to investigate matters. But before he reached the pit-head the answer to all possible inquiries came to meet him, in the form of a slow-moving procession carrying something in its midst. Very gently the bearers laid the stretcher on the grass by the roadside. Daphne, white, silent, but composed, stooped down and turned back the blanket which covered her husband's face. He lay very still. His head and eyes were roughly bandaged. Daphne whispered, so low that none other could hear. "Jack--my Jack!" His voice answered hers, from amid the bandages--faint, but imperturbable as ever. "I'm all right, dear. Afraid it has got me in the eyes a bit, though. Take me home, wife of mine! You will have to lead me about with a string now!" Daphne's head sank lower still, and she whispered, almost exultantly-- "At last I can really be of some use to you!" CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR. ANOTHER ALIAS. "Brian Vereker Carr," inquires a voice, "what time is it?" "Half-past four, sir," replies the same voice respectfully. "In twenty minutes"--in a more truculent tone--"you will have to go upstairs and get ready for tea. You will have to wash your hands--and your face too, I expect," adds the voice bitterly.