He walked into the sick-room a few minutes later, and with a casual nod to all present, moved at once to the bed. Bending over Asshlin, he felt his pulse, then glanced significantly at Milbanke, who had risen on his entrance. "I think we must inject a stimulant," he said. "The pulse is a little weak." With a faint sound of consternation Clodagh stood up. "Oh, he's not worse?" she said. "Doctor Gallagher, he's not worse?" Gallagher looked at her, and his expression changed. The distress of a pretty girl is always difficult to resist. "No, Miss Asshlin," he said kindly. "No. You see, he has gone through a lot. We must expect him to be weak." Clodagh looked relieved, though the alarm still lingered in her eyes. "Of course," she said. "Yes, of course. Is there anything I can do?" Gallagher glanced at her again. "Well," he said quietly, "perhaps you will call the nurse for me? There's no real need for her, but it is just as well we should have her on the spot." Again Clodagh's eyes darkened with apprehension, but she made no remark. Signalling to Nance to follow her, she left the room. As the two girls disappeared, Gallagher bent again over Asshlin, making another rapid examination; then once more he glanced up at Milbanke. "He may not last the night," he said below his breath. "Molyneaux expected that it wouldn't be a long business, but we didn't look for the change so soon as this." Milbanke did not alter his position. "You'll stay on, of course?" he said mechanically. "Yes. Oh yes, I'll stay on!" As he said the last word Clodagh reappeared. "The nurse will be here in a minute," she said in a steady voice. The unrelaxed, monotonous vigil lasted until two o'clock; then, as Asshlin showed a disposition to rally, the doctor asserted his authority, and dismissed Mrs. Asshlin, Nance, and Milbanke for a much-needed rest--Clodagh alone refusing to leave the room. Though he would not have admitted it, the command came as a boon to Milbanke. His long and arduous journey, coupled with the strain and excitement of the day and evening, had culminated in intense weariness; and when Gallagher's order came, it would have been a superhuman effort to offer any protest. Reaching his room, he took off his boots, and, partially undressing, threw himself upon his bed. How many hours he slept the deep sleep of utter exhaustion he did not know. His first effort at awaking consciousness was a thrill of nervous fright that made him sit up in bed, aware with a sudden shock that some one was knocking imperatively on his door and calling him by name in low, agitated tones. "Mr. Milbanke! Mr. Milbanke! Wake, please! Quick! Mr. Milbanke!" He stared into the darkness for an instant in dazed apprehension; then he slid out of bed, fumbling blindly for his dressing-gown. "Coming!" he called. "Coming!" Having found the garment, he crossed the room stumblingly, thrusting his arms into the sleeves as he went.