TO SAVE HER. The knock was repeated as Brettison and Stratton stood gazing at each other, and then at the miserable imbecile before them in the chair. At that moment a familiar voice, muffled by the doors, but still silvery and clear, said: "No use; not at home." "One more try!" came plainly to their ears, followed by a cleverly executed _roulade_ with the little brass knocker. Then there was a short pause, and the rattle of the little copper-plate of the letter-box as if something had been dropped in; the babble of merry voices, and descending steps. Stratton waited till the last sound had died out, when he opened the inner door, and took out two cards. "Edie and Guest," he said, as he came back and reclosed the door. Just then a line or two in pencil caught his eye, and he read: "_Come on to my rooms as soon as you can. News_. "_P.G_." "Impossible?" muttered Stratton, tossing the cards on to the table. "Now, Brettison, we must act at once." "Yes. Yes; of course. But, my dear lad, what a pity you found me, and I took you there." "Too late to talk of that, man," said Stratton, who was full of energy now as he stood frowning. "But have you ever had any scene like this before? I mean, has he returned to his former self?" "No. He has always been as you saw him this morning. His memory was a blank as to the past. Your coming and the sound of your voice must have revived it all." "But he made not the faintest sign of recognition." "No; but we cannot understand the workings of the brain. It was, perhaps, the expiring effort of his reason, for look at him now." "Expiring!" cried Stratton. "Yes; but how many more flashes of reason may spring up before the light goes right out?" Brettison gazed at the man in a perplexed way, and bent over and touched him, but there was no sign. "This settles it," said Stratton at last. "We must act at once." "Yes. What shall we do?" "You see, he may have a hundred returns of his memory, and come here again and again threatening and making demands; and if he has reason enough at these times to come here, what is to prevent his going up to the admiral's and making a terrible scene there?" Brettison nodded. "Yes," he said hopelessly. "What, indeed! Malcolm, my dear lad. I thought by going into hiding with him, and devoting myself to his care, I was doing you a great service; but I'm getting old and weak, I suppose. I will go by all you say now. I haven't an opinion of my own." "You did everything you could for me," said Stratton warmly; "and you must go on helping me still." "I will do anything if you will only trust me." "Trust you," cried Stratton reproachfully. "There, we must act at once." "What do you propose doing?" "Making sure that the man has no further opportunity of doing harm to anyone." "You will not hand the poor wretch over to the police?"