"Well, she was holding Ariadne as close as though she was expecting kidnapers. I came in and she looked up--God! Rankin, with what a face of fear! It wasn't grief. It was terror! She said: 'I must save the children--I mustn't let it get the children, too.' I asked her what she meant, and she went on in a whisper that fairly turned the blood backward in my veins, 'The Minotaur! He got Paul--I must hide the children from him!' And that's all she would say. I managed to put Ariadne to bed, though Lydia screamed at the idea of having her out of her sight, and I gave Lydia a bromide and made her lie down. I think she knew me--oh, yes, I'm sure she did--why, she seemed like herself in every way but that one--but all night long she has wakened at intervals with a shriek and would not be quieted until she had felt of Ariadne. Nothing I said has had the slightest effect. I'm at my wits' end! If she doesn't get quieted soon--I finally gave her an opiate--enough to drug her senseless for a time--I don't know what to do! I don't know what to do!" He dropped his head into his hands and sat silent, shivering. Rankin was looking at him, motionless, his powerful hands gripping his knees. He did not seem to breathe at all. The doctor sprang up and began to trot about, kicking at the legs of the furniture and biting his nails. "Yes, I can, too! I do blame him for the date of his death!" He went back angrily to an earlier remark. "Hollister killed himself as gratuitously as if he had taken a pistol! And he did it out of sheer, devilish vanity--ambition! He had worked himself almost insane, anyhow. I'd warned him that he must take it easy, get all the rest he could. His nerves were like fiddle-strings. And what did he do? Made a night trip to Evanston to superintend a job entirely outside his work. The inspector gave the machines the regular test; but Paul wasn't satisfied. Said they hadn't come up to what he'd guaranteed to get the contract; took charge of the test himself, ran the speed up goodness knows how high. The inspector said he warned him, but Paul had got going and nothing could stop him--speed-mad--efficiency-mad--whatever you call it. And at last the fly-wheel on the engine couldn't stand it. It went through four floors and tore a hole in the roof--they say, in their ghastly phrase, there isn't enough left of him for a funeral! The other men left widows and children, too, I suppose--Oh, damn! damn! damn!" He stopped short in the middle of the floor, his teeth chattering, his hand at his mouth. Rankin's face showed that he was making a great effort to speak. "Would I be allowed to see her?" he asked finally. The doctor spun round on him, amazed. "You? Lydia? Why in the world?" "Perhaps I could quiet her. I have been able to quiet several delirious sick people when others couldn't." "I don't even know she's delirious--that's what puzzles me. She seems--" "Will you let me try?" asked Rankin again.