"You are to wait here," he said, turning to the driver, "for a lady and a red-haired gentleman. Now understand, no one but a red-haired man is to enter this car. Here is a pound, and if you don't make a mess of things, the other gentleman will give you two more." "All right, sir; thank you, sir," exclaimed the astonished chauffeur, greedily pocketing the gold piece. Cyril was certain that he had not been followed, and there was no sign that the nursing home was being watched, but that did not reassure him. Those curtained windows opposite might conceal a hundred prying eyes. When he was ushered into Miss Prentice's room, he was surprised to find her already up and dressed. She held a mirror in one hand and with the other was arranging a yellow wig, which encircled her face like an aureole. Cyril could hardly restrain a cry of admiration. He had thought her lovely before, but now her beauty was absolutely startling. On catching sight of him she dropped the mirror and ran to him with outstretched hands. "Oh! I am so glad you have come. How do you like my hair?" she exclaimed all in one breath. Cyril heroically disengaged himself from her soft, clinging clasp and not daring to allow his eyes to linger on her upturned face, he surveyed the article in question judicially. "For a wig it's not bad. I can't say, however, that I like anything artificial," he asserted mendaciously. "You prefer my own hair!" she cried, and the corners of her mouth began to droop in a way he had already begun to dread. "Oh! what shall I do? Nurse tells me it will take ages and ages for it to grow again." "There, there, my dear, it's all right. You look lovely--" he paused abruptly. "Oh, do I?" she cried, beaming with delight. "I am so glad you think so!" "It doesn't matter what I think." "But it does," she insisted. Cyril turned resolutely away. This sort of thing must stop, he determined. "I would like to ask you one thing." She hesitated a moment. "Are we very poor?" "No, why?" "Then I could afford to have some pretty clothes?" "Certainly." "Oh, I'm so glad! I can't bear the ones I have on. I can't think why I ever bought anything so ugly. I shall throw them away as soon as I can get others. By the way, where is my box? Nurse tells me that I arrived here with nothing but a small hand-bag." "It has gone astray," he stammered. "It will turn up soon, no doubt, but in the meantime I have bought a few clothes for your immediate use." "Oh, have you? Where are they?" she cried, clapping her hands. Now was the crucial moment. He must introduce the subject of her departure tactfully. "They are outside in a cab." She ran to the window. "But I see no cab." "It is waiting a little farther down the street." She looked bewildered. "Farther down--why?" "You trust me, don't you?" he said, looking earnestly at her. "Yes, of course."