They found him. He lay on the thick Oushak rug at the foot of the chair in which he had been seated when they left him. On his lips lingered a slight smile. A physician lived across the street. When he arrived his examination was brief and perfunctory. He merely said that the stroke had come like a bolt of lightning, then turned his attention to Stephanie, who seemed to be sorely in need of it. *CHAPTER XI* When such a thing happens to young people a certain mental numbness follows the first shock, limiting the capacity for suffering, and creating its own anodyne. The mental processes resume their functions gradually, chary of arousing sensation. Grief produces a chemical reaction within the body, poisoning it. But within that daily visitor to the body, the soul, a profound spiritual reaction occurs which either cripples it or ennobles it eternally. Many people called and left cards, or sent cards and flowers. Some asked for Jim; among others, Chiltern Grismer. "M-m-m’yes," he murmured, retaining the young man’s hand, "—my friend of many years has left us;—m-m-m’yes, my friend of many years. I am very sorry to hear it; yes, very sorry." Jim remained passive, incurious. Grismer prowled about the darkened room, alternately pursing up and sucking in his dry and slitted lips. Finally he seated himself and gazed owlishly at the young man. "And our little adopted sister? How does this deplorable affliction affect her? May I hope to offer my condolences to her also?" "My sister Stephanie is utterly crushed.... Thank you.... She is very grateful to you." "M-m-m’yes. May I see her?" "I am sorry. She is scarcely able to see anybody at present. Her aunt, Miss Quest, is with her." "M-m-m. After all—but let it remain unsaid—m-m-m’yes, unsaid. So her aunt is with her? M-m-m!" Jim was silent. Grismer sat immovable as a gargoyle, gazing at him out of unwinking eyes. "M-m-m’yes," he said. "Grief was his due. My friend of many years was worthy of such filial demonstrations. Quite so—even though there is, in point of fact, no blood relationship between my friend of many years and your adopted sister——" "My sister could not feel her loss more keenly if she and I had been born of the same mother," said the boy in a dull voice. "Quite so. M-m-m’yes. Or the same father. Quite so." "I—I simply can’t talk about it yet," muttered the young fellow. "If you’ll excuse me——" "_Quite_ so. Far better to talk about other things just at present, m’yes, far wiser. M-m-m—and so the young lady’s aunt has arrived? Very suitable, ve-ry suitable and necessary. And doubtless Miss Quest will take up her permanent residence here, in view of the—ah—m-m-m-m’yes!—no doubt of it; no doubt." "We have not spoken of that." A moment later Miss Quest entered the room.