"And now my only thought was to call for help. I hurried into the next room and tried to get you on the telephone, but they said you were at the hospital and could not be reached for an hour. Then I rushed back to the studio and, as soon as I came in, I could scarcely believe my eyes but there was Penelope standing in front of the fireplace, just as I had left her the first time. She was looking at the blazing logs with a thoughtful expression and when I came close to her, she faced me naturally and pleasantly as if nothing had happened. "You can imagine my astonishment, I could not speak, but--I was so relieved to find her recovered that I put my arm around her affectionately and just touched my lips to her cheek. Heavens! You should have seen her then. She sprang away from me indignant. How dared I take such a liberty? Had she not reproved me already? It was incredible that a man who professed to care for her, a gentleman, should be so lacking in delicacy. And before I could do anything or explain anything, she had dashed out into the night alone, refusing even to let me walk beside her. Now then," Christopher concluded, "what do you make of that?" "Strange!" nodded the doctor, "very strange. And in spite of this she came to see you again?" "Yes, two evenings later, without any warning, she burst into my studio about nine o'clock." "In a red dress?" "Yes." "And a black hat?" "Yes." "Good Lord, it's true!" muttered Owen. "Go on, my boy. I want the details. This may be exceedingly important. Go right through the scene from the beginning." After a moment of perplexed silence, Christopher continued: "When I say she burst in, that about expresses it. She was like a whirlwind, a red, laughing, fascinating whirlwind. I had never seen her half so beautiful--so alluring. I was mad about her and--half afraid of her." "Hm!" grunted Owen. "What did she do?" "Do? She did a lot of things. In the first place she apologized for having been so silly the time before--after the ball. She said she was ill then, she didn't want to talk about it. Now she had come to make amends--that was the idea." "I see. Well?" "Well, we sat before the fire and she asked me to make her a cocktail. She said she had had the blues and she wanted to be gay. So I mixed some cocktails and she took two, and she certainly was gay. I didn't know Penelope drank cocktails, but of course it was all right--lots of women do. Then she wanted to sit on the divan and she bolstered me up with pillows. She said she liked divans. I hate to tell you all this, sir." "Go on, Chris."