"I'll find out about doctors for you, and which is the quickest way. There's an Englishman at our hotel—if only I can catch him before he goes out! He is so kind, I am sure he would help. If not, Mademoiselle will advise me. But Mr. Maurice would be best." "Maurice!" The name arrested her. "A friend of ours—a Mr. Maurice—was coming out to Switzerland soon." "This is a Mr. R. R. Maurice—spelt M-a-u—" "Dick Maurice!" She clasped her hands again. "Oh, if he is here—!" "He was going for a long walk. I'll do my best to stop him." "Will you? Oh, will you? How kind. If only it is our Dick Maurice! He is a young surgeon—just starting practice—so kind and clever. Please tell him it is Arthur and Amy Ramsay." "I'll be sure—if only I can catch him. Anyhow, I'll let you know quickly. Keep up heart meanwhile—don't be frightened. People are often not so bad as they seem." Five minutes brought her to the hotel; and she learnt that Maurice had just started. No thought of Mrs. Brutt might stand in the way. She knew the direction he had meant to take; and her only chance of overtaking him lay in instant action. At her best speed she set off; and on quitting the village she caught sight of a masculine figure, slim and active, not to be mistaken, some distance ahead. Already he had left the road, and was mounting the steep hillside. One glance made clear that there was no one within reach whom she could send in chase. She could not risk letting him get out of sight, while she turned elsewhere to find a man. All depended upon her; and she braced herself for the chase. He did not appear to be going at any great pace; but he was well in advance; and though she was both strong and vigorous, an upward rush soon brought her to a breathless condition. She had to pause, gasping, and to go more leisurely. Despite her utmost efforts, the space between them gradually widened. Then he vanished behind some bushes; and when again he came within view, he had taken another turn up a yet more acute slope, still at the same long easy stride, which cleared the ground faster than it seemed to do. Now he was on a steep zigzag, winding to and fro; and this brought new hope. A faint indication of a path led straight upward, ignoring the bends; a path of rough shale, broken and jagged. If she could mount thus, direct, she might intercept him as he, in more deliberate fashion, followed the bends. Spurred by the recollection of that distressed girl-face, she made the attempt. [Illustration: GIVING IN HAD BECOME INEVITABLE, WHEN HE TURNED.] No easy matter, as she soon found. The path, meant for use in coming down only, grew worse and worse, more stony, more difficult. The loose shale yielded beneath her tread; and for each step in advance, she felt as if she slid two steps downward. Yet advance she did, though with heart-breaking slowness.