Untrammelled by an intense anxiety on account of Nanette that obsessed me to-night, this queer adventure must have been definitely enjoyable. But, like so many human experiences, it was less exciting in the doing than it is in the telling. For exploration of unfamiliar by-paths, as I have already mentioned, there is no vehicle like a cosy armchair. That Zara would head for the nearest landing place, it was fairly reasonable to suppose. Therefore we pulled hard across in the direction of the County Hall, eagerly watching the surface of the water. Suddenly: “There he goes!” cried Donoghue. But, even as he spoke, I had seen the swimmer--close in, under the right bank, heading powerfully for the stairs. We raced for him and made land almost simultaneously. In the act of landing Zara stumbled and slipped back into the river. He came up by the stern of the boat. O’Shea’s hand shot out, grasped him by a soddened collar-band, and hauled him in against the side. Dimly, I could see O’Shea’s face as he looked down at the upcast eyes of Zara. I think I knew what was in his mind, and in those upturned eyes was recognition of it--and acceptance. Still grasping the helpless man, O’Shea glanced quickly at Donoghue. “Yes, Donoghue,” he said coldly, “I remember the night behind the farm. You have reminded me that I once had decent instincts. Sergeant, here’s your prisoner.” CHAPTER XXXI. HIATUS I find that my memory holds no proper record of the hour that elapsed between this time and our return to Nanette. There were certain unavoidable formalities to be gone through; but within ten minutes of the arrest of Zara, I was on the telephone to my rooms. My man answered; and his replies, whilst reticent, were reassuring. “Mr. Milton has been removed to hospital, sir. A very narrow escape, I understand. It will be a long job, but he is in no danger. Yes, sir, the lady is”--pause--“still here.” “Why?” I asked uneasily, and glanced at O’Shea, who was standing at my elbow throughout this conversation. “They--didn’t like to move her, sir. I ’phoned to Sir Frank Leslie, in Harley Street, sir, by request. He is here.” “But where is--the lady?” “Sorry, sir, but she is--in your room. Her mother is with her, sir.” “Is she dangerously ill?” “I don’t really know, sir. Both the medical men are with her now.” As I replaced the receiver, I stared at O’Shea. He had moved away from me and was pacing restlessly up and down the bleakly furnished room in New Scotland Yard from which we had been speaking. “You understand?” I said. “She is--rather badly hurt.” “I understand.” He nodded grimly. “She saved my life, Decies, perhaps at the price of her own. I can’t bear to think of it.” He turned abruptly and stared out of the window at a vista of empty Embankment below, lighted by many twinkling lamps.