Vera was a trifle out of breath when she entered Craig Porter’s bedroom. Mrs. Hall, chart in hand, was standing by the mahogany desk, and her face cleared at sight of Vera. “Why didn’t you let me know you wished to go off duty a little earlier?” asked Vera reproachfully. “I would have hurried back--” “Because I knew it would rest you to have your dinner in peace and quiet. I have arranged Mr. Porter for the night and given him his nourishment. All you have to do is to follow the doctor’s directions; they are pinned to the chart.” “Of course I will follow the doctor’s orders,” responded Vera, much offended by her companion’s manner as well as her words, “I will obey instructions as I have done heretofore.” Mrs. Hall looked at her oddly, a look which Vera missed as she crossed the room to arrange the window blinds. “Are you nervous about staying up alone next to that--?” asked Mrs. Hall, and a turn of her head indicated the room occupied by Bruce Brainard the night before. “Not in the least,” answered Vera; she was having some difficulty in closing the heavy outside blinds and her voice was somewhat muffled. She jerked her head inside the room again and closed the window. “There is a motor car coming up the drive--it looks like a taxi.” “It’s probably for me.” And Mrs. Hall disappeared into the dressing-room which connected Craig Porter’s bedroom and the room which she and Vera shared. Left to herself Vera went thoughtfully over to the desk. She was still writing when Mrs. Hall reappeared, bag in hand. “Will you please mail this letter for me in the city?” asked Vera. “I won’t be a moment finishing it.” “You’ll find blotting-paper in the lower desk drawer,” announced Mrs. Hall, stopping to button her heavy coat up about her throat. “It wastes time blowing on the ink.” Vera reddened. “If it is only a note to your sister, why not give me a verbal message?” Vera’s color deepened. “I prefer to write,” she answered stiffly. “As you wish; I only made the suggestion to save time,” and Mrs. Hall glanced significantly at the clock. Vera’s hot temper got the upper hand. “On second thought, I’ll not detain you longer,” she said, and her long, slender fingers made mince-meat of the letter she had been writing. With a mumbled “good night,” Mrs. Hall left the room, and, turning, Vera stared contemplatively at the door. What had come over her companion? It was not like Mrs. Hall to be so cantankerous. Vera spent the next hour in performing her accustomed duties, and when she finally took her seat near the shaded night light she was conscious of utter weariness, a weariness more akin to mental exhaustion than she had known in many months--the day’s horrors were telling upon her, and her mental state was reacting upon her physical strength. A footstep outside the partly open hall door caused her to hasten across the room as Murray appeared, tray in hand.