The dinner was a flat failure. Somehow Lou Gordon stuck it through, answering the man’s questions she never knew how, forcing commonplace remarks by the utmost effort of will, and longing for the moment the miserable ordeal should be over with. Once or twice as she glanced into the man’s face her imagination discerned something sinister in the searching gaze of his eyes. Why had she never noticed it before? She was conscious of a dull pain in the region of her heart. The last course remained before her untouched. She began to feel queer all over. The dull pain in her heart gave place to a very real pain in her stomach. Stabs of excruciating agony shot through her body. Her vitals were being torn asunder in a mighty grip. The color receded from her face, and thin beads of cold sweat appeared upon the marble whiteness of her brow. She was aware that the Stranger was standing over her, and instinctively she shrank away from the touch of his hand. The room was growing dark. She could hear voices--excited voices--far off. When she opened her eyes she was in bed in her own room. A man stood beside the bed regarding her intently. He was not the Stranger. Beside him stood a woman whom the girl recognized as the chambermaid who took care of the room. The man spoke: “You’ll pull through, all right,” he said, reassuringly, “Bad case of ptomaine poisoning. If we hadn’t pumped you out just when we did, I’m afraid it would have been all over with you.” “How long have I been--here?” asked the girl, surprised at the weak tones of her voice. “About three hours. But you must be quiet, now. Don’t try to talk. I’ve left medicine and full instructions with Kate, here. It isn’t the first time we’ve worked together. She’s as good as any nurse. A few days of quiet is all you need.” “A few days!” cried the girl, struggling to raise herself. “Why, I’ve got to drive the Sweepstakes tomorrow! I’ve got to!” The doctor smiled: “There, there, that’s all right,” he soothed, “Don’t get all excited, now. Go to sleep if you can.” “But--I tell you I’ve got to drive that race!” “Sure, that’s all right. You can drive the race, all right. But, the race don’t start till tomorrow. Get a good night’s rest, and if you feel like driving the Sweepstakes in the morning, why go right ahead.” The girl sank back onto her pillow, and watched between half-closed lids as the man placed some queer-looking instruments into a small black bag. A few moments later he departed, and with a low moan, she turned her face toward the wall. But, she did not go to sleep.