She had never got over the difficulty which had beset her at the first, that she had not been able to decide which was the best way to carry on her search. She had always the one dreadful fact to remember, that she was not the only person who wanted to get within touch of Sydney. If she was not careful she might do him the worst possible turn, by placing him in the hands of his enemies. That, in the sense in which she used the word, he was an innocent man she had no doubt whatever; but whether that sense was one which would commend itself to the authorities was the problem which caused her many a sleepless night, which took the roses out of her cheeks, the light from her eyes, the spring from her steps; which had transformed the blooming, light-hearted, high-spirited maiden into a nervous, shrinking, white-faced woman. She who had never known what it was to have an hour's illness, had suddenly become the victim of headaches which would not go. Such headaches! It seemed as if some terrible weight were pressing on her brain, making it difficult even for her to open her eyes. Major Reith caught her one day while she was in the grip of one of the very worst of them. Coming unannounced into her little sitting-room, he found her lying face downwards on the couch. Starting up, turning towards him her pallid face, they regarded each other with mutual discomfiture. He spoke first: "I beg your pardon, but--I did knock." Assuming a more orthodox position, she conjured up--it seemed with difficulty--a faint, wan smile. "I'm not surprised. It's I who should apologise; this absurd head of mine makes me feel so stupid that anyone might knock half a dozen times without my knowing it." Her appearance startled him; to him she seemed genuinely ill; the change which had taken place in her hurt him more than he would have cared to say. He was so unwilling that she should see the concern on his face that he turned his face from her under the pretence of putting his hat upon a chair. "Have you seen a doctor?" "What's the use? Medicine won't cure me, at least the sort of stuff a doctor would prescribe." "Suppose you get really bowled over, what then?" She did not answer; she shut her eyes and sat still. "Do you know you are beginning to strike me as an extremely obstinate person?" "Are you only just beginning to find that out?" "You'll be a case for the hospital before very long, and then what good will you have done, for yourself, for anyone?" "That's a question which I put to myself--so often. Please don't bully me. You never have seen me cry, have you? But I shall cry if you do; and I feel that if I once start I shall never stop. Have you any news? That's the medicine I want, and a doctor who will give it me." "I'm more than half disposed to telegraph to someone who'd pack you off to the sea; you'll brood yourself ill." "The sea won't do me any good; I've told you the only medicine which will. Have you any?"