"Now we'll make a call on Parkins," suggested Updyke, to which Villard agreed, although the doctor was overdue. A last call for the night on Winifred had been agreed upon, but evidently the case over at Sawyer's home was too critical--perhaps an operation had been necessary. On reaching the Sawyer home Updyke and Villard were informed that the host had retired, but that Doctor Benton and a surgeon from New York had experimented upon Parkins, and were awaiting results which might call for a more dangerous operation in the region of the brain. One of the two nurses had volunteered the information. The situation was grave. "I'd rather he died than come out of it a cripple for life," said Villard, as they strolled back to Dreamy Hollow in a roundabout way. "Don't worry as to that--he will pull through, and the more crippled he is the more dangerous he will become," said Updyke. "He will steal the girl one of these days if you are not everlastingly on the alert." From that thought Villard, who saw the truth in the prophecy, became silent, as a new fear seized his heart. By every means in his power he would frustrate such an eventuality, and with his last drop of blood he would stand between the girl and the evil genius whose touch would defile, and whose snares would destroy. Updyke, "mind reader" that he was, had just grounds for planting the seed of everlasting vigilance in Villard's brain. "There is an old saying that 'it takes a rogue to catch a rogue,' Drury, and I've spent years in acquiring a rogue's viewpoint. Just make up your mind that Parkins can never assume the rôle of a saint, except as a subterfuge, and that every hour that he isn't asleep, he is dangerous." "I place the whole matter in your hands, Henry. I have not the wits for the job, and would probably lose in any fight against any man with the mind of a crook," replied Villard. The worries of the day had been great and rest was important in view of the duties of to-morrow. A peep into Winifred's suite found the nurse in good cheer. The sleep of the patient was more normal, and signs of a desire to awaken had been noted. All was well, as the two men took their separate ways to comfortable beds and a well-earned rest. CHAPTER IX. FORCES BEYOND THE SKIES Gloomy days followed along the path of Drury Villard during the week succeeding his last interview with Updyke. The invalid upstairs was in bed, devoid of memory. She laughed, talked, sat up in bed, or in a perambulating chair was taken out among the flowers and trees each day. She recognized no one by name, not even her father, whose health was giving away under the strain. Her talk was of flowers and birds by day--and the stars by night. "I'm going to be with them soon," said she, gaily--referring to the stars. "My mother is up there." "And where is your father?" asked Villard, trying to aid her memory.