r mother and Stephanie have taken
charge."

"Is she going to be very ill?"

"Billy Ogilvy hasn't said anything yet."

"Is she conscious?"

"Yes, she is now."

"Has she said anything more?"

"No."

Lily stood silent a moment, gazing absently down at the lighted hall
below, then she looked at her brother as though she, too, were about to
speak, but, like her father, she reconsidered the impulse, and went away
toward the nursery.

Later his mother opened the door very softly, let herself and Stephanie
out, and stood looking at him, one finger across her lips, while
Stephanie hurried away downstairs.

"She's asleep, Louis. Don't raise your voice--" as he stepped quickly
toward her.

"Is it anything serious?" he asked in a low voice.

"I don't know what Dr. Ogilvy thinks. He is coming out in a moment...."
She placed one hand on her son's shoulder, reddening a trifle. "I've
told William Ogilvy that she is a friend of--the family. He may have
heard Sam talking about her when he was here last. So I thought it
safer."

Neville brought a chair for his mother, but she shook her head,
cautioning silence, and went noiselessly downstairs.

[Illustration: "'Well, Louis, what do you know about this?'"]

Half an hour later Dr. Ogilvy emerged, saw Neville--walked up and
inspected him, curiously.

"Well, Louis, what do you know about this?" he asked, buttoning his big
thick rain-coat to the throat.

"Absolutely nothing, Billy, except that Miss West, who is a guest of
the Countess d'Enver at Estwich, lost her way in the woods. How is she
now?"

"All right," said the doctor, dryly.

"Is she conscious?"

"Perfectly."

"Awake?"

"Yes. She won't be--long."

"Did she talk to you?"

"A little."

"What _is_ the matter?"

"Fright. And I'm wondering whether merely being lost in the woods is
enough to have terrified a girl like that? Because, apparently, she is
as superb a specimen of healthy womanhood as this world manufactures
once in a hundred years. How well do you know her?"

"We are very close friends."

"H'm. Did you suppose she was the kind of woman to be frightened at
merely being lost in a civilised country?"

"No. She has more courage--of all kinds--than most women."

"Because," said the big doctor thoughtfully, "while she was unconscious
it took me ten minutes to pry open her fingers and disengage a rather
heavy dog-whip from her clutch.... And there was some evidences of blood
on the lash and