And that other sound--like one's idea of battering-rams thundering at fortress walls--the nurse would have me believe that to such an accompaniment did milk make entry into London! Sometimes the thick air was so sharply torn by horn, or pierced by whistle, that I would start up in my bed trembling, listening, till the dying clamour sunk once more to the level of the giant's breathing. When I was not delirious, the reason I lay still was sometimes half a nightmare reason; a feeling that the muffled night-sounds were like the bees at home in the rhododendron, drumming softly so long as we sat still. The moment we rose up the bees rose too, with angry commotion, ready to fly in our faces and sting. Just so with that muted hum of London. If I were not very still, if I were to rise and venture out, all the stinging, angry noises would rise, too, and overwhelm me. And out there in the heart of the swarm, Bettina. Being stung and stung, till feeling died. CHAPTER XXXIII A STRANGE STEP One day, when my head was clearer, I seemed to have lain a great while waiting for someone to come. I asked where Mrs. Harborough was. She was "engaged for the moment." Presently I asked what kept her. The nurse rang and sent a message. Mrs. Harborough came up at once. She had been talking to Mr. Annan, she said. And would I like to see him? No. I shrank under the bedclothes, and turned my face to the wall. An afternoon, soon after that, brought me the sudden clear sense of Eric's being again in the house. I was sure that he timed his visits so that he might see the doctor. When the doctor left the room that afternoon I asked if Mr. Annan had been again. Yes; and did I want to see him now? No. "He has come to-day with another friend of yours," said Mrs. Harborough, lingering. "One of the Helmstones?" I asked dully. "No; Mr. Dallas." Ranny! Ranny was downstairs. The happy, care-free people were going still about the world. "Is he married?" I asked. "Married?" Mrs. Harborough seemed surprised. Certainly, he seemed free to devote a great deal of time to us. Mr. Annan and he between them had left no means untried, she said. "I have been told a thousand times," I interrupted, "that everything has been done, but no one ever tells me what." I fell to crying. Looking more stirred than I had ever thought to see her, she told me that young Dallas had offered rewards, and had gone from place to place in search.... I seized her hands. I made her sit by the bedside. Yes, and always he had come back here, making his report and asking questions. Eric brought the doctors and the nurses ... but Ranny had done better. Ranny had stirred up Scotland Yard. When Eric told him the nurse had said I was for ever raving about barred windows, Ranny had flung out of my aunt's drawing-room and was gone a day and a night.