Out in the wide hall a man, partly concealed by the heavy portières, jumped nervously back from the keyhole of the door as the sound of the gong reached him, and turning, scuddled down the hall just as Dr. Paul Potter came down the broad winding staircase. The latter paused as the clear bell-like vibrations of the gong drifted to his ears, bringing with them a note of urgency and appeal which he was quick to answer. Locating the sound, he made for the Chinese room and rapped sharply on the panels of the closed door. He waited an appreciable instant, then, receiving no response, turned the knob and walked into the room. As he crossed the threshold his foot struck a small object and sent it spinning ahead of him. His eyes followed the bright silver, and he was about to advance and pick up the pencil when, looking up, he spied Janet sitting in front of the desk. Her attitude arrested his attention. Crossing the intervening space at a bound, he felt her pulse and heart; then stepped back, and his keen gaze swept the room. Convinced that they were alone, he again bent over her and laid his hand lightly on her bare neck. “Feeling better?” he inquired some moments later. “Yes,” Janet shivered and pulled her scarf up about her shoulders. “The incense here always makes me feel deadly faint. I don’t see how mother stands it.” “It is trying; suppose I open the window,” moving toward it. “Please don’t,” she shivered again. “I am quite cold enough already. I would like a glass of water,” pointing to a carafe and tumblers standing on a small table near the window. Potter quickly got it for her and watched the warm color return gradually into her pale cheeks. “That tastes so good. You kept me waiting an awfully long time, Doctor.” “I am sorry; your father and I were reminiscing. I thought Duncan was here with you.” “Duncan here?” He wondered at the alarm in her tone. “No, he hasn’t been near me. How is mother?” “Very much improved.” “I am so glad,” in a relieved voice. “I felt such a pig to have the dinner tonight, but mother positively refused to let me call it off. Father said it was better to humor her.” “He’s quite right; your mother must not be excited by discussions or dissensions.” “We never have them,” she laughed saucily. “We are a united family ruled by mother.” “I have a great regard for Mrs. Fordyce,” replied Potter gravely, not liking her flippant tone. “Have you just come from her room?” “No, your father and I were talking in the boudoir.” “Did you see----” a knock on the hall door interrupted her. “Come in.” “Miss Swann is in the drawing-room, Miss Janet,” announced the footman. “Gracious! I must run,” Janet gathered up her scarf, fan, and handkerchief. “If you see Duncan, Doctor, please ask him to hurry,” and she departed. As the door closed behind her Potter walked over and picked up the silver pencil. He was still examining it when Duncan entered the room. “Where’s Janet?” he demanded.