"I too!" said the Doctor. "With all my heart, I wish it were over! If there were anyone within call who could handle it, I'd turn it to him gladly. But there isn't!" He moved again toward the door, leaning out and glancing down the hall. "You stay here," he admonished her. "Don't try to find us; I want no interruptions, no matter what enters that mind of yours!" "You needn't worry," she said soberly. "I'm not fool enough for that." She leaned wearily back in the chair, closing her eyes. A long interval passed; she was vaguely surprised to see the Doctor still standing in the doorway when she opened her eyes. She had fancied him already in the midst of his labor. "What will you do?" she asked. "About what?" "I mean what sort of operation will it need? Probing or what?" "Oh," he said. "I'll have to trephine him. Must get that bullet." "What's that--trephine?" He glanced down the hall. "They're ready," he said, and turned to go. At the door he paused. "Trephining is to open a little door in the skull. If your devil is in his head, we'll have it out along with the bullet." His footsteps receded down the hall. Revelation "Is it over now?" queried Pat tremulously as the Doctor finally reappeared. The interminable waiting had left her even more worn, and her pallid features bore the marks of strain. "Twenty minutes ago," said Horker. His face too bore evidence of tension; moreover, there was a puzzled, dubious expression in his eyes that frightened Pat. She was too apprehensive to risk a question as to the outcome, and simply stared at him with wide, fearful, questioning eyes. "I called up your home," he said irrelevantly. "I told them you left with me early this morning. Your mother's still in bed, although it's after ten." He paused. "Slip in without anyone seeing you, will you, Honey? And rumple up your bed." "If I haven't lost my key," she said, still with the question in her eyes. "It's in the mail-box. Magda found it on the porch this morning. I talked to her." She could bear the uncertainty no longer. "Tell me!" she demanded. "It's all right, I think." "You mean--he'll live?" The Doctor nodded. "I think so." He turned his puzzled eyes on her. "Oh!" breathed Pat. "Thank God!" "You wanted him back, Honey, didn't you?" Horker's tone was gentle. "Oh, yes!" "Devil and all?" "Yes--devil and all!" she echoed. Suddenly she sensed something strange in the other's manner. She perceived the uncertainty in his visage, and felt a rising trepidation. "What's the matter?" she queried anxiously. "You're not telling me everything! Tell me, Dr. Carl!" "There's something else," he said. "I'm not sure, Pat, but I think--I hope--you've got him back without the devil!" "He's cured?" Her voice was incredulous; she did not dare accept the Doctor's meaning. "I hope so. At least I located the cause." "What was it?" she demanded, an unexpected vigor livening her tired body. "What was that devil? Tell me! I want to know, Dr. Carl!"