In return, there were little ways in which she might help him, even as he might help her; but they had come faster than either had expected. Where was the surgeon? She rose and went to the clerk. "Are you sure the surgeon has not gone?" she asked. "Very sure," answered the clerk. "He has just sent out for a nurse to remain with monsieur." "A nurse?" repeated Marjory. "The doctor says Monsieur Covington must not be left alone." "It's as bad--as that?" questioned Marjory. "I do not know." "I must see the doctor at once," she said. "But, first,--can you give me apartments on the same floor,--for myself and maid? I am his fiancée," she informed him. "I can give mademoiselle apartments adjoining," said the clerk eagerly. "Then do so." She signed her name in the register, and beckoned for Marie. "Marie," she said, "you may return and finish packing my trunks. Please bring them here." "Here?" queried Marie. "Here," answered Marjory. She turned to the clerk. "Take me upstairs at once." There was a strong smell of ether in the hall outside the door of Monte Covington's room. It made her gasp for a moment. It seemed to make concrete what, after all, had until this moment been more or less vague. It was like fiction suddenly made true. That pungent odor was a grim reality. So was that black-bearded Dr. Marcellin, who, leaving his patient in the hands of his assistant, came to the door wiping his hands upon a towel. "I am Mr. Covington's fiancée--Miss Stockton," she said at once. "You will tell me the truth?" After one glance at her eyes Dr. Marcellin was willing to tell the truth. "It is an ugly bullet wound in his shoulder," he said. "It is not serious?" "Such things are always serious. Luckily, I was able to find the bullet and remove it. It was a narrow escape for him." "Of course," she added, "I shall serve as his nurse." "Good," he nodded. But he added, having had some experience with fiancées as nurses:-- "Of course I shall have for a week my own nurse also; but I shall be glad of your assistance. This--er--was an accident?" She nodded. "He was trying to save a foolish friend from killing himself." "I understand." "Nothing more need be said about it?" "Nothing more," Dr. Marcellin assured her. "If you will come in I will give you your instructions. Mademoiselle Duval will soon be here." "Is she necessary?" inquired Marjory. "I have engaged the next apartment for myself and maid." "That is very good, but--Mademoiselle Duval is necessary for the present. Will you come in?" She followed the doctor into Monsieur Covington's room. There the odor of ether hung still heavier. She heard him muttering a name. She listened to catch it. "Edhart," he called. "Oh, Edhart!" CHAPTER VII THE ADVANTAGES OF BEING SHOT