At last I was to see my lady again! It seemed too good to be true. Having given our names to the butler, we were ushered into a large drawing-room, redolent with flowers. So this was May's home. I glanced eagerly about. These chairs had held her slight form; at that desk she had written, and these rugs had felt the impress of her little feet. A book lay near me on a small table. I passed my fingers lovingly over it. This contact with an object she must often have touched gave me an extraordinary pleasure,--a pleasure so great as to make me forget everything else,--and I started guiltily, and tried to lay the book down unobserved, when a tall, grey-haired lady stepped from the veranda into the room. Mrs. Derwent greeted Miss Cowper affectionately, and welcomed me with quiet grace. "Fred has told me so much about you, Dr. Fortescue, that I am very glad to meet you at last." Then, turning to Alice Cowper, she said: "May wants very much to see you. She is lying in a hammock on the piazza, where it is much cooler than here. Dr. Fortescue and I will join you girls later." "You have been told of my daughter's condition?" she inquired, as soon as we were alone. "Yes. I hear, however, that there has been a marked improvement since Sunday." "There was a great improvement. She seemed much less nervous yesterday, but to-day she has had another of her attacks." "I am sorry to hear that. Do you know what brought this one on?" "Yes. It was reading in the paper of the Frenchman's assault on you!" "But I don't understand why that should have affected her." "You will forgive my saying so, Doctor--neither do I, although I am extremely glad that you escaped from that madman unhurt." She looked at me for a moment in silence, then said: "When Fred advised me to consult you about my daughter's health, I knew immediately that I had heard your name before, but could not remember in what connection I had heard it mentioned. In fact, it was not until I read in the _Bugle_ that the man who was supposed to have committed the Rosemere murder had, last night, attempted to kill you that I realized that you were the young doctor whom my daughter had told me about. You were present when she was made to give an account of herself to the coroner, were you not?" "Yes, but I trust that my slight association with that affair will make no difference." She again interrupted me: "It makes the greatest difference, I assure you. As you are aware of the exact nature of the shock she has sustained, I am spared the painful necessity of informing a stranger of her escapade. We are naturally anxious that the fact of her having been in the building at the time of the murder should be known to as few people as possible. I am, therefore, very grateful to you for not mentioning the matter, even to Fred. Although I have been obliged to confide in him myself, I think that your not having done so indicates rare discretion on your part." I bowed.