stair creaking behind diverted his attention. He looked
quickly around. Gerald was descending. The boy's face was white, and his
eyes were filled with fear. Hamel stepped softly back from the door and
met him at the foot of the stairs.

"Did you hear that cry?" he whispered.

Gerald nodded.

"It woke me up. What do you suppose it was?" Hamel shook his head.

"Some one in pain," he replied. "I don't understand it. It came from
this room."

"You know who sleeps there?" Gerald asked hoarsely.

Hamel nodded.

"A man with concussion of the brain doesn't cry out like that. Besides,
did you hear the end of it? It sounded as though some one were choking
him. Hush!"

They had spoken only in bated breath, but the door of the room before
which they were standing was suddenly opened. Meekins stood there,
fully dressed, his dark, heavy face full of somber warning. He started
a little as he saw the two whispering together. Gerald addressed him
almost apologetically.

"We both heard the same sound, Meekins. Is any one ill? It sounded like
some one in pain."

The man hesitated. Then from behind his shoulder came Mr. Fentolin's
still, soft voice. There was a little click, and Meekins, as though
obeying an unseen gesture, stepped back. Mr. Fentolin glided on to the
threshold. He was still dressed. He propelled his chair a few yards down
the corridor and beckoned them to approach.

"I am so sorry," he said softly, "that you should have been disturbed,
Mr. Hamel. We have been a little anxious about our mysterious guest.
Doctor Sarson fetched me an hour ago. He discovered that it was
necessary to perform a very slight operation, merely the extraction of
a splinter of wood. It is all over now, and I think that he will do very
well."

Notwithstanding this very plausible explanation, Hamel was conscious
of the remains of an uneasiness which he scarcely knew how to put into
words.

"It was a most distressing cry," he observed doubtfully, "a cry of fear
as well as of pain."

"Poor fellow!" Mr. Fentolin remarked compassionately. "I am afraid that
for a moment or two he must have suffered acutely. Doctor Sarson is
very clever, however, and there is no doubt that what he did was for
the best. His opinion is that by to-morrow morning there will be a
marvellous change. Good night, Mr. Hamel. I am quite sure that you will
not be disturbed again."

Hamel neither felt nor showed any disposition to depart.

"Mr. Fentolin," he said,