He lay in his chair pondering these and other imaginings with a pleased and fatuous smile, until the sight of his fellows returning reminded him that dinner-time was approaching, and he went in and changed from his flannels into uniform. That evening they played boisterous and childish games. Isobel, looking more than usually lovely, was in a mood of irresponsible gayety; and the patients, catching the infection, became over-excited to such an extent that the sister-in-charge (who was making as much noise as any one) had to assume an official demeanor and threaten to stop the revels. To Allen Isobel hardly spoke a word the whole evening; and if she was aware of his presence where he sat in a big arm-chair in a corner of the hall she gave no sign. When ten o'clock came and sister was shepherding her unruly flock to bed, Isobel was not there to say good night. Allen went to bed in a state of acute misery, convinced that Isobel had done this on purpose (which was the truth) and because she disliked him (which was not the truth). He lay awake pondering dismally on the incomprehensibility of women. He came down to breakfast next morning in a state of anxiety, and found Isobel in the center of a clamorous mob busy dealing out coffee and tea, while sister dealt with the porridge queue. On his plate was a folded note, which he opened. Underneath a skull and cross-bones neatly executed in red ink was a message: "Meet me beneath the gnarled oak at eleven. All is prepared. Be silent and secret. The password is 'coffee-pot'--A FRIEND." So all was well, after all! Allen slipped away to the garage at the appointed time, and found the little car, with which Isobel was accustomed to terrorize the countryside, being filled with petrol by an aged chauffeur. "Who goes there?" demanded the car's owner. "Coffee-pot," answered Allen, in sepulchral tones. "Pass friend, and all's well. Jump in, and we'll get away quick." "Not _too_ quick, please. I'm not in the Flying Corps," pleaded Allen. But Isobel--who had a wide reputation as a fearsome driver--let in the clutch with a suddenness which nearly sent Allen out over the back of the car, and they fled down the drive and disappeared amid the cheers of the few patients who happened to see them. The car went round the corner on one wheel at a speed which would have meant certain disaster had any other traffic chanced to be passing. Allen clutched at the sides of his seat lest sheer centrifugal force should deposit him head downwards in a ditch. "It's all right," said Isobel reassuringly, as they gathered speed on the straight road. "I'm glad to hear it," answered Allen. "Tell me when you're going to take another corner. I'm glad I'm not a nerve case." The landscape streamed past them for a space, till Isobel slowed down. "Here we are," she said. They turned into the Manor drive, and a moment later pulled up before the house.