"It isn't _all_ imagination, most likely," said Horker defensively. "I know these introverted types with their hysterias, megalomanias, and defense mechanisms! They've paraded through my office there for a good many years, Pat; they've provided the lion's share of my practice. But this young psychopathic of yours seems to have it bad--abnormally so, and that's why I'm so interested, apart from helping you, of course." "I don't care," said Pat apathetically, repressing a desire to rub her injured arm. "I'm through. I'm scared out of the affair. Another week like this last one and I _would_ be one of your patients." "Best drop it, then," said Horker, eyeing her seriously. "Nothing's worth upsetting yourself like this, Pat." "Nick's worth it," she murmured. "He's worth it--only I just haven't the strength. I haven't the courage. I can't do it!" "Never mind, Honey," the Doctor muttered, regarding her with an expression of concern. "You're probably well out of the mess. I know damn well you haven't told me everything about this affair--notably, how you acquired that ugly mark on your arm that's so carefully powdered over. So, all in all, I guess you're well out of it." "I suppose I am." Her voice was still weary. Suddenly the glare of headlights drew her attention to the window; a car was stopping before her home. "There's Mother," she said. "I'll go on back now, Dr. Carl, and thanks for entertaining a lonesome and depressed lady." She rose with a casual glance through the window, then halted in frozen astonishment and a trace of terror. "Oh!" she gasped. The car was the modest coupe of Nicholas Devine. She peered through the window; the Doctor rose and stared over her shoulder. "I told him to come," she whispered. "I told him to come when he was able. He heard me, he or--the other." A figure alighted from the vehicle. Even in the dusk she could perceive the exhaustion, the weariness in its movements. She pressed her face to the pane, surveying the form with fascinated intentness. It turned, supporting itself against the car and gazing steadily at her own door. With the movement the radiance of a street-light illuminated its features. "It's Nick!" she cried with such eagerness that the Doctor was startled. "It's _my_ Nick!" 22 Doctor and Devil Pat rushed to the door, out upon the porch, and down to the street. Dr. Horker followed her to the entrance and stood watching her as she darted toward the dejected figure beside the car. "Nick!" she cried. "I'm here, Honey. You heard me, didn't you?" She flung herself into his arms; he held her eagerly, pressing a hasty, tender kiss on her lips. "You heard me!" she murmured. "Yes." His voice was husky, strained. "What is it, Pat? Tell me quickly--God knows how much time we have!" "It's Dr. Carl. He'll help us, Nick." "Help us! No one can help us, dear. No one!" "He'll try. It can't do any harm, Honey. Come in with me. Now!" "It's useless, I tell you!"