She laughed in a mirthless way. "Why did you do it?" "I haven't any idea." "And you spoke unkindly to Seraphine? That isn't like you." "No? How do you know what I am like?" she answered quickly, her hand still fidgeting with the pencil. Dr. Owen observed her attentively and did not speak for some moments. Seraphine and Christopher drew their chairs nearer, as if they knew that the tension of restraint was about to break. "You must realize that you have been under a great strain, Mrs. Wells," resumed the doctor, "and you are tired--you are very tired." Her answer came dreamily, absent-mindedly: "Yes, I am tired," and, as she spoke, Penelope's tragic eyes closed wearily. But her fingers still clutched the pencil and continued to move it over the white sheet. "Look!" whispered Seraphine, "she is making letters upside down." "That's queer!" nodded Owen. "She is writing backwards--from right to left. Hello!" He started in surprise as he saw, on bending closer, that Penelope had covered the sheet with large printed letters--X--K--C, written over and over again. Greatly disturbed, Dr. Owen roused his patient and questioned her about this; but she insisted that she had no idea what she had written or what the letters meant. A little later, however, she acknowledged that this was not true. "What! You did know what you wrote?" the scientist demanded. His whole manner had changed. His eyes were cold and accusing. He was no longer a sympathetic physician tactful towards the whims of a pretty woman, but a major in the United States Army defending the interests of his country. "This is a very serious matter, Mrs. Wells, please understand that. You told me just now that you did not know what you wrote on the sheet of paper?" Penelope faced him scornfully. Her cheeks were flushed. Her bosom heaved. "I said that, but it wasn't true. I lied to you. I did know what I wrote." "You know what those letters mean?" "Yes, I do!" "What do they mean?" "They mean some kind of poison stuff that you have made for the army." "How do you know that?" "He told me," she turned to Captain Herrick who had listened in dumb bewilderment. "How can you say such a thing?" Chris protested. "Because it's true," she flung the words at him defiantly. The young officer went close to her and looked searchingly into her eyes. "Think what you are saying," he begged. "Remember what this means. Remember that--" She cut in viciously: "You shut up! I have no more use for you. I tell you it's true." "Don't believe her, doctor," interposed Seraphine: "She is not responsible for what she says." "I am responsible. I know exactly what I am saying." "It is not true, sir," put in Captain Herrick. "May I add that--" "Wait! Why are you confessing this, Mrs. Wells?" Like a fury Fauvette glared at Christopher. "Because he turned me down. I'm sore on him. He's not on the level." "Not on the level? Are you speaking of him as a lover or an officer?"