"Lord a'mighty!" the old fellow exclaimed, "if this ain't the poor child that's been an invalid all these weeks! Mrs. Sands will be in a way! Must be near eight weeks since this little gal was brought in on a stretcher, lookin' like dead. She ought to be in bed." "Somebody should have looked after her," said O'Reilly. "That's it, sir. Her nurse is out, gaddin'." "Brute!" Clo heard O'Reilly mutter. And leaning comfortably against his shoulder she felt wicked, treacherous, because she had more than once applied the same epithet to him. Whatever happened, never would she do that again! The elevator stopped. The porter touched the electric bell at the Sands' door, and almost instantly a manservant appeared. His cry of surprise brought Mrs. Sands herself out from a room at the end of the hall. The porter tried to explain everything; failed; broke off to question O'Reilly; O'Reilly answered; Beverley exclaimed; and among them, all was confusion. Clo, looking through half-shut eyes over her bearer's shoulder, saw a shadow flit between the portieres. Had some one come in? If so, who could it be? Or was it only the shadow of a blowing curtain she had seen? The question did not strike her as important just then, for if any one had passed it was doubtless a servant or, at worst, Sister Lake. Besides, Clo had much to think of; how to come back to consciousness quickly without rousing suspicion, and, when officially alive again, how to escape for the next errand. The rush of air and babble of excited voices gave her an excuse to gasp, and stammer out a conventional "Where am I?" "We'll get you to your room, dear," said Beverley; and Clo wondered if her acting had deceived Angel. "The butler can----" "No, thanks, I'll manage her by myself," O'Reilly broke in and carried the white bundle along the hall. "This is her room," Mrs. Sands explained to him. "If you will put her on the bed...." "No--please! Take me on into the next room, Sister Lake's room. I must be there. I'll tell you why presently," the girl pleaded. Beverley threw open the door between the two rooms, hurried ahead, and turned on a light. "Now, lay me on this bed," Clo commanded. Having obeyed, O'Reilly stood as if awaiting further orders. Clo glanced from him imploringly to Mrs. Sands. "I've gone through such a lot!" she moaned. "I've suffered so! I felt I could never get home alive. Please, Mr. O'Reilly--you've been kind--don't let it all be for nothing!" "What do you want of me?" he stiffly inquired. "Only for you to talk to Mrs. Sands. In that next room--my room. Nobody will disturb you. If the nurse comes back, she'll come into her own room first. That's why I asked you to bring me to it. I couldn't persuade you to give me the papers. Perhaps even Mrs. Sands can't persuade you. But I beg, I pray you, to give her the chance. Listen to what she has to say." "Very well," he answered, grudgingly. "I'll do what you ask. But I'll do it for your sake."