"Oh, after that, there seems to come a blank. I remember her face, and how I held her in my arms and tried to comfort her. And then--oh, it's just like a dreadful dream!--I was running in the sun, running, running, running, never seeming to get anywhere. The next thing I really remember is being at the Priory and having lunch in that awful storm, and Max coming--do you remember?--do you remember? And how I kept him away from her? Poor child, he terrified her so." Olga was shuddering now from head to foot. Her eyes were wide and staring, as though fixed upon some fearful vision. Nick did not attempt to interrupt her. He waited, alert and silent, for the vision to come to an end. The end was not far off. She went on speaking rapidly, as if more to herself than to him. She seemed indeed to have forgotten him for the moment. "What a frightful storm it was! That flash of lightning--how it shone through the east window--and the floor was all red as if--as if--" She broke off; her hand clenched unconsciously upon Nick's. "Did you see her?" she whispered. "Or was it only a nightmare? She--was trying--to--to--kill Max--in the dark!" "She was not herself," said Nick. His voice was low and soothing; he spoke as if he feared to awake her. "No--no! She was mad--like her mother. Oh, Nick, how beautiful she was!" Suddenly the tension passed. Olga covered her face and began to cry. His arm tightened about her; he drew her on up the shady walk. "And that is all you remember, kiddie?" he said. She slipped her arm round his neck as they walked. "No, I remember two things more." She forced back her tears to tell him. "I remember Max's arm all soaked with blood. It stained my dress too. And I remember his saying that--that it was a hopeless case, and that she--Violet--was as good as dead. After that--after that----" Nick waited. "After that?" he said. She turned to him, her face anguished, piteous, appealing. "I can't get any further than that, Nick. It's just a dreadful darkness that makes me afraid. I think I begged him not to go to her. But I know he went, because--when he came down again"--her voice faltered; bewilderment showed through her distress--"when he came down again--" she repeated the words like a child conning a lesson, then stopped, staring widely. "Ah, I don't remember," she cried hopelessly. "I don't remember--except that I think--when he came down again--it was all over. And he seemed to be angry with me. Why was he angry with me, Nick? Why? Why?" She began to tremble violently; but Nick's arm, strong and steadfast, drew her on. "He wasn't angry," said Nick. "Up to that point you are all right, but there your imagination runs away with you. It's not surprising. He looks grim enough when he's on the job. But that's his way. We know too much of him, you and I, to take him over seriously." "Then he really wasn't angry?" Olga said, relief struggling with doubt in her voice. Nick began to smile. "He really wasn't," he said.