“There won’t be any change in Mrs. Quelton,” she said. “It would only be a waste of time.” It was not so much for that poor woman, who she feared was beyond hope, that she wanted the New York specialist, as for Captain Grey. It would help him so much to feel that something was being done, that some one was hurrying out here! “Might be more of a waste of time,” said Mr. Binz, “if some one was to come all the way out here after she—” “Oh, all right!” cried Lexy impatiently. Then suddenly she remembered. “They haven’t any telephone at the doctor’s house,” she said. “Suppose I go out there first, and see?” suggested Captain Grey. “No!” said Lexy. “Don’t!” But the idea impressed him as a good one, and go he would. “I’d rather see how she is, first,” he repeated. “If there’s no change, I’ll come back.” Lexy looked at Mr. Binz with an angry and reproachful frown, which the poor man did not understand. He had only wanted to give helpful advice. “Come on, then!” she said to Captain Grey. “I’ll leave you at Mrs. Royce’s,” he told her. “No, you won’t!” she contradicted with a trace of severity. “If you _will_ go, I’m going with you!” He protested against this, but she would not listen, and so they went to the garage for Joe’s taxi; but Joe and his taxi had gone out. An interested bystander said that they could get a “rig” from the livery stable with no trouble at all. They had only to find the proprietor, and he, in turn, would find the driver, who would harness up the horse. “No, thanks,” said Captain Grey. He turned to Lexy. “I can’t wait,” he told her. “I’m going to walk. Thank you for—” “I can walk, too,” said Lexy. “It’s only three miles.” “I don’t want you to, Miss Moran.” “I’m coming anyhow,” she replied. For that instinct in her, the thing which was beyond reason, drove her forward. She could not let him go alone. She had walked that three miles once before to-day, and she had walked farther than that with Houseman in the afternoon. She was tired, terribly tired, and filled with a queer, sick reluctance to approach that sinister house again; but she had to go. She had said to herself that morning that she was coming back, and now she was going to do so. They did not try to talk much on the way. What had they to say? They were both filled with a dread foreboding. They hurried, yet they wished never to come to the end of the journey. They turned down the lane, leaving the lights of the highway behind, and went forward in thick darkness, under the shadow of the trees. The sound of the sea came to them—the loneliest sound in all the world. “There’s a light in the house, anyhow!” said Lexy suddenly. Her own voice sounded so small, so pert, so futile, in the dark, that she felt no surprise when Captain Grey showed a faint trace of impatience in answering. “Naturally!” he said.