r, and curled also. His eyes seemed buried in them as in hairy
nests--like pale, blue eggs, Sophy thought drearily, as she gazed at
their hard convex.

"What is Lady Wychcote like? Is she a reasonable woman?" asked Carfew.

Exhausted and wretched as she was, almost Sophy could have smiled. The
contrast between the actual Lady Wychcote and the "reasonable woman"
surmised by Carfew struck her as so painfully droll.

"Not always, I fear," she said gently.

"Quite so. Just as I thought. A blind alley. Will you tell this ... er
... not always reasonable lady, from me--from Algernon Carfew--that her
son is the same as lost to her if she cannot find sufficient
reasonableness to have him committed to a sanatorium for his own good?"

"Yes--I will tell her."

"But you think it won't have much effect--eh!"

"I'm afraid she won't believe me."

Carfew glared.

"Then send her to _me_!" he said. It was the voice of an Imperator of
Medicine.

"She might not be willing to see you."

"Mh!... This complicates matters. For the present moment, Mr. Chesney is
out of danger. I have given his man--Naylor...!"

"Gaynor."

"I have given Gaynor full instructions. The attack will be over in
twenty-four hours. He has taken a most amazing amount of cocaine within
the last three days--winding up with a huge dose of morphia. Cocaine
excites--morphia soothes--in the end. When was he last violent?"

Sophy felt as though choking.

"Last evening," she managed to articulate.

"Quite so. Very violent, indeed, I presume. Was he abusive?"

"Yes."

"Mh. Well, it rests with you, and--er--Lady Wychfield--Wychcote. Quite
so. I will not undertake the case under the present conditions. By the
way--make no mistake about this man Naylor. He has been very faithful.
If he had not succeeded in persuading his master to moderate the drug at
times--well----" He paused; then said abruptly: "Mr. Chesney would
probably be dead or a hopeless lunatic."

"Yes," said Sophy.

Carfew looked at her earnestly a few moments. Then his hard, acute
visage softened.

"I see you're trying hard to be brave," he said. "You've had a severe
shock. Allow me to prescribe for you at least."

"Thank you," she said faintly.

"Then go to bed, and let your maid rub you with alcohol--a soothing
friction. Then darken your room and try to sleep."

"Thank you very much," said Sophy again, and this time she smiled
faintly.

"Ha!--I know what that smile means. That it's ea