He _was_ ill, she said, whether I thought so or not. His going to work really _proved_ that he was ill, because the hours he spent at the laboratories were absurd. He practically lived there. He went very early in the mornings and came back very late at nights, and he had grown very quiet and silent, hardly speaking a word even when he met her, which wasn't very often. He had been overworking for years, but lately he had been more than overworking. She was sure he was on the verge of a breakdown. There had been a doctor staying at the hotel--a German nerve specialist--and his opinion, formed merely from observation of Terry during the few seconds of a lift-journey, had been sufficiently disquieting. "And then once--but that wass many weeks ago--he wass ill when he came in at night, and he began to say things to himself in a very strange way. I would think he wass drunken, but he does not drink.... He talked about hiss work, and you, and somebody named Helen.... Who iss this Helen? Do you know?" I wonder if the shock of that sent me pale suddenly. She seemed to notice something in my face, anyway, for she went on, gazing at me intently: "I wondered if this Helen wass a lady in England whom he had known a long time ago...." She paused, and then, as if accepting the fact that there were things I could tell her, but wouldn't, went on: "So you see why I sent for you. I am afraid for him--I am afraid of what will happen. You must take him away--to England--anywhere--anywhere where he cannot work.... Otherwise--I do not like to think of what will happen." "When can I see him?" I asked. She said: "He will come back here to-night--probably very late--and you must tell him then, and persuade him, and not go away till he hass given in...." She leaned forward across the table towards me and suddenly laid her cool hand on mine. "Oh, I know it will not be easy for you--I know it iss like trying to move a rock ... but...." An atom of calmness left her as she continued: "I can do nothing. I haf tried, but it iss no use. He takes no notice of me now.... Oh, I know how I haf deranged you--you leave your work in London and come all the way here thinking he iss ill, and then you find he iss not ill as you expect--I know you think I ought not to haf sent this telegraph for you--but I--_I_ am glad you haf come--because you can help him. Oh, you _must_ help him--you _must_ take him away where he cannot work. He iss _worth_ helping--he iss worth anything that can be done--_you_ know that, don't you?" I nodded, and she suddenly began to cry. "It iss stupid of me," she said, wiping her eyes. "I did not think I should be so stupid.... But after seven years, I like him very much. I did not ever meet any man--except him--whom I could marry...." So that was it.