"Certainly I can do that"; Christina laughed a little, and drew more closely round her the cloak she had snatched from its peg as she came to the door, "and I would gladly--oh, most gladly, do anything I could to help that poor lady. But, my duty seems to lie here." "I should only ask you to come for a few hours. I will undertake that you shall be back here before your little charge is ready for you in the morning. It is vitally necessary that someone should be with 'that poor lady,' as you rightly call her, and my thoughts flew at once to you." "I wish I knew what was right to do," Christina said wistfully; and at her words, Dr. Fergusson sprang from his car and seized her hands in his. "I will tell you," he said firmly; "it is right to come with me. I will explain to Mrs. Nairne as much of the circumstances as it is necessary she should know, and I have no doubt she will come to the rescue. Go and fetch whatever you will need for the night; it will be a night spent in sitting-up, not in bed; and I will settle with the good woman." Swept off her feet by the masterfulness which brooked no resistance, Christina obediently did his bidding, and when she returned to the door, found Mrs. Nairne in close conversation with the doctor. "There, missy, that'll be all right, never you fear," she said as Christina appeared; "the doctor, he've been telling me there's a poor lady in great trouble, and that you could comfort her by sitting up with her a bit. Why, I'll sleep with the little missy with all the pleasure in life, and you can feel as safe about her, as if you was here yourself." When the doctor had handed her into the car, and they drove swiftly away, the girl felt as if she were merely a puppet, whose strings were being pulled by Fergusson's strong hands. She had a curious sense of helplessness, that was not wholly unpleasant. So dominating was the personality of the man who sat beside her, that she was convinced he was only doing what was right in whirling her away with him through the darkness; and his brown eyes were so steadfast, so reliable, that when their glance met hers, she felt safe. He spoke scarcely at all to her, until they had turned off the moorland into the steep lane, that led to the house amongst the woods. Then he said quietly, steering the car at a walking pace: "I found an uncomfortable state of things in the house to which we are going, when I got there to-day." "Was someone very ill?" Christina questioned; "the lady said 'a matter of life and death.'" "It was certainly that," he answered grimly, "considering I was only just in time to save her from being murdered, by as violent a homicidal maniac as I ever saw." "Oh!" Christina exclaimed with horror.