“Cook sent some broth tonight as well as the sandwiches,” he said, lowering his voice as he tiptoed into the room and placed the tray on a side table. “She thought you would like to have something hot in the early morning, and I put the broth in the thermos bottle.” “That was very kind and thoughtful of you both,” exclaimed Vera gratefully. “Please thank cook for me.” “Yes, miss.” Murray tiptoed over to the bed and looked at Craig Porter, who lay with his eyes closed, his face matching the sheets in whiteness. The almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that life still lingered in the palsied body. Shaking his head, Murray retreated to the hall door. “I’m thinking the young master’s health will have a setback, now Dr. Noyes has gone,” he said sorrowfully. “And he was improving so finely.” “We are keeping up the same treatment,” replied Vera. “Good night, Murray, and thank you.” Pausing only long enough to see if her patient required attention, Vera returned to her chair, and in its comfortable, upholstered depths her tired muscles relaxed, and she half lay, half sat at ease and surveyed her surroundings. The room and its furnishings were well worth a second look, but an attraction which Vera was powerless to conquer drew her eyes to the transom in the wall separating the room she sat in and the one which had harbored the grim tragedy of the night before. In her excited state of mind she half expected to see the same faint light appear through the transom which had shone there twenty-odd hours before, but the darkness in the next room was unrelieved. However, even the patch of darkness gave full play to her morbid fancies, and with a shudder she turned her head away--to find Mrs. Porter standing by her side. Too startled to move she gazed in amazement at her employer. “I slipped in through your bedroom so as not to disturb Craig,” explained Mrs. Porter, in a subdued tone. “The other door lets in so much light from the hall when opened. I have something to say to you--” “Yes, Mrs. Porter.” Vera was on her feet. “Will you sit here, or shall we--” “Is Craig asleep?” Vera moved over to the bed and bent over her patient, then returned. “Yes, he is still slumbering,” she announced. “Then I will sit here.” Mrs. Porter pulled forward a companion chair to the one Vera had vacated. “If we speak low our voices cannot disturb Craig in this large room. How is he tonight?” Vera hesitated, and Mrs. Porter, her eyes sharpened by love, saw it even in the dim night light, and one hand went to her heart. “I really think Mr. Porter is the same,” answered Vera hastily. “I see--no change.” A heavy sigh broke from Mrs. Porter. “Why couldn’t Alan Noyes have stayed?” she moaned. “Why such mad haste? I would have paid him any price--done anything, in and out of reason, to insure my boy having his skilled medical attendance. And now--”