Even unconscious as she was, Jael's brain and body began to show some signs they were not quite impervious to the strange magnetic power which besieged them so closely. When Grace's eyes had been close to hers about a minute, Jael Dence moved her head slightly to the left, as if those eyes scorched her. But Grace moved her own head to the right, rapid as a snake, and fixed her again directly. Jael Dence's bosom gave a heave. “Where--is--Henry Little?” said Grace, still holding her tight by the eye, and speaking very slowly, and in such a tone, low, but solemn and commanding; a tone that compelled reply. “Where--is--Henry Little?” When this was so repeated, Jael moved a little, and her lips began to quiver. “Where--is--Henry Little?” Jael's lips opened feebly, and some inarticulate sounds issued from them. “Where--is--Henry Little?” Jael Dence, though unconscious, writhed and moaned so that the head nurse interfered, and said she could not have the patient tormented. Ransome waved her aside, but taking Grace Carden's hand drew her gently away. She made no positive resistance; but, while her body yielded and retired, her eye remained riveted on Jael Dence, and her hand clutched the air like a hawk's talons, unwilling to lose her prey, and then she turned so weak, Ransome had to support her to her carriage. As Grace's head sunk on Ransome's shoulder, Jael Dence's eyes closed for the first time. As Ransome was lifting Grace Carden into the carriage, she said, in a sort of sleepy voice, “Is there no way out of these works but one?” “Not that I know of; but I will go at once and see. Shall he drive you home?” “Yes. No--to Dr. Amboyne.” Dr. Amboyne was gone to Woodbine Villa. She waited in his study, moving about the room all the time, with her face of marble, and her poor restless hands. At last the doctor returned: they told him at the door Miss Carden was there; he came in to her with both hands extended, and his face working with emotion. She fell sobbing into his arms; sobbing, but not a tear. “Is there any hope?” “I have one. May he not have left the country in a fit of despair? He often threatened. He talked of going to the United States.” “So he did. Ah, he called on me yesterday afternoon. Might not that have been to bid me good-by?” She looked so imploringly in Dr. Amboyne's face that he assented, though full of doubt. And now there was a ring at the bell, and Mr. Ransome came to say there was a little postern gate by which Mr. Little might possibly have gone out and the porter not seen him; and, what was more, this gate, by all accounts, had been recently opened: it was closed before Bolt and Little took the premises. Mr. Ransome added that he should now make it his business to learn, if possible, whether it had been opened by Mr. Little's orders. Grace thanked him earnestly, and looked hopeful; so did Dr. Amboyne.