"You think that I should not have run away?" "It looks like guilt, Herries." "What! Do you believe----?" "Would I take your hand, if I believed that you were guilty?" interrupted the doctor sharply. "That I am here, should show you that I have the most implicit confidence in your innocence." "Ah!" said Herries, rather sadly, "but you came to see Mrs. Kind." "And you wouldn't have come," put in Sweetlips over his shoulder, "if Elspeth had not whispered when we came out that Mr. Herries wanted to see you." "You can trust me," said Browne, rather huffily, "and in any case, I presume you would not have sacrificed your wife's life to save Herries' neck." "He has saved her," said Kind, looking at the young man with his heart in his honest eyes. "What do you mean?" asked Browne, coming to the bed-side and stooping over the woman, who seemed to be in a sound sleep. "Mr. Herries is a doctor. He came here, and sucked the stuff from her throat in the nick of time. But for his bravery, my poor Rachel would have been dead." Kind wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, and again looked at Herries. "I'll give my life up to finding the man who killed your uncle, so that you may be saved." "Can you do that?" asked Herries sadly. "It seems to me that the evidence is so strong----" "So it is,--so it is. But I have been searching the death-chamber and your room at the inn. I have found other evidence which may be of value." "Oh!" Herries clenched his hands, eagerly, "what is it?" "One moment," interposed Browne, in a low voice, so as not to disturb the patient. "Let us do things in order. What about Mrs. Kind?" "She's all right, and will be much better when she wakes up," said Herries. "The stuff is out of her throat; it's a diphtheritic case." "What have you done?" Herries in an undertone rapidly gave details of his treatment, and the other doctor approved with nods. "She would have been dead, but for you," he said, emphatically. "But how did you manage to escape?" "Elspeth!" said Herries, and would have explained, but that Kind beckoned them to the far end of the caravan, near the door, and pointed to a couple of stools. "Let us talk low," murmured the ex-detective. "For after all, there may be spies about, and besides, I don't want Rachel disturbed." "Fancy telling that to medical men," laughed Browne, softly. Kind, relieved in his mind that Rachel's life was safe, smiled also, and placed two stools and an old chair close together. When the doctors were seated, he got out glasses, and a bottle of whisky, and the three had drinks, which, under the circumstances, they very much needed. While Kind was preparing his hospitality, Browne glanced round the narrow space of the caravan.