“Come up here and keep me warm,” Paul said to him, with a snap of his fingers, which brought the dog on to the billiard table, where he lay close to Paul, who gradually grew warmer and finally fell asleep. How Tom managed to bring him anything to eat he hardly knew, but he did manage it. Paul, however, could not eat, and only took a bit of bread to please Tom, and then again fell asleep with Sherry beside him. He had given a growl or two when he heard the tramp of strange footsteps overhead as the officers went through the house, and Tom wanted to throttle him, fearing danger. That was passed, and Mr. and Mrs. Ralston found their son and his dog asleep when they went to him after being told where he was. His mother’s tears upon his face awoke him, and he started up, but fell back again upon his pillow weak as a child, bodily and mentally. The strain upon him had been more than he could bear, and for days he lay in a kind of lethargy, sleeping a great deal and partially delirious when awake. He knew he was free, but did not fully realize the situation or understand why he was in the Smuggler’s room instead of his own, or why his father’s face wore so grave a look of concern and his mother’s eyes were full of tears when she spoke to him. He saw only these two and Tom for a few days, if we except Sherry, who staid with him constantly and only went out for exercise and to bark and growl at any suspicious people who came near the house. Sherry was developing a new side to his character, and from being the best-natured dog in the neighborhood, was getting a name for the most savage. His favorite resting place when out of doors was near the entrance to the basement, where he would sit watching everything which went on around him, and when he heard a footstep at the front of the house, hurrying to see who the intruders were, growling if he did not like their looks, wagging his tail if he did and going back to his position near Paul’s door. It was necessary after a little that the servants in the house should know of Paul’s presence there, and they were sworn to secrecy, which was scarcely necessary, as not one of them would have betrayed their young master. After this it was easier to care for him than before. The Smuggler’s room was furnished with every appliance for comfort, and every possible attention was paid to the invalid, whose mind remained shaky and clouded, and who was always trying to remember what had happened and how he came to be in his present quarters. Tom told him two or three times, but the effort to remember tired him so that Paul always shook his head, saying: “No good. It’s all a blur, except Sherry’s licking my face. I remember how cold his tongue was. That’s all.” “Perhaps Miss Elithe can help you,” Tom suggested, and Paul caught eagerly at it. “Yes, I want to see Elithe. I have a dim recollection of her. Send for her.”