She was quivering with nervousness. I was not the police agent then, I’m afraid. “Nurses are accustomed to disturbing things. Perhaps I can help.” “You can, by watching the children. That’s the only thing that matters to me—the children. I don’t want them left alone. If you have to leave them call me.” “Don’t you think I will be able to watch them more intelligently if I know just what the danger is?” I think she very nearly told me. She was so tired, evidently so anxious to shift her burden to fresh shoulders. “Mr. Reed said,” I prompted her, “that there was an epidemic of children’s diseases. But from what you say——” But I was not to learn, after all, for her husband opened the hall door. “Yes, children’s diseases,” she said vaguely. “So many children are down. Shall we go up, Frank?” The extraordinary bareness of the house had been dawning on me for some time. It was well lighted and well furnished. But the floors were innocent of rugs, the handsome furniture was without arrangement and, in the library at least, stood huddled in the center of the room. The hall and stairs were also uncarpeted, but there were marks where carpets had recently lain and had been jerked up. The progress up the staircase was not calculated to soothe my nerves. The thought of my little revolver, locked in my suitcase, was poor comfort. For with every four steps or so Mr. Reed, who led the way, turned automatically and peered into the hallway below; he was listening, too, his head bent slightly forward. And each time that he turned, his wife behind me turned also. Cold terror suddenly got me by the spine, and yet the hall was bright with light. (Note: Surely fear is a contagion. Could one isolate the germ of it and find an antitoxin? Or is it merely a form of nervous activity run amuck, like a runaway locomotive, colliding with other nervous activities and causing catastrophe? Take this up with Mr. Patton. But would he know? He, I am almost sure, has never been really afraid.) I had a vision of my oxlike predecessor making this head-over-shoulder journey up the staircase, and in spite of my nervousness I smiled. But at that moment Mrs. Reed behind me put a hand on my arm, and I screamed. I remember yet the way she dropped back against the wall and turned white. Mr. Reed whirled on me instantly. “What did you see?” he demanded. “Nothing at all.” I was horribly ashamed. “Your wife touched my arm unexpectedly. I dare say I am nervous.” “It’s all right, Anne,” he reassured her. And to me, almost irritably: “I thought you nurses had no nerves.” “Under ordinary circumstances I have none.” It was all ridiculous. We were still on the staircase. “Just what do you mean by that?” “If you will stop looking down into that hall I’ll be calm enough. You make me jumpy.”