ame--"one of the worst cases I have ever seen."

"You can command me, Enid," Bell said. "If I can."

"No, no," Enid cried. "What am I saying? Please to go upstairs
with Martin."

Bell departed, wonderingly. Enid flew to the door and out into the night.
She could hear Henson cursing and shouting, could hear the snarling
clamour of the dogs. At the foot of the drive she paused and called Steel
softly by name. To her intense relief he came from the shadow.

"I am here," he cried. "Do you want me?"

"Yes, yes," Enid panted. "Never more were your services needed. My sister
is dying; my sister must--die. And Hatherly Bell is with her, and--you
understand?"

"Yes," said David. A vivid flash of understanding had come to him. "Bell
shall do as I tell him. Come along."

"Hold him up, dear doggies," Enid murmured. "Hold him up and I'll love
both of you for ever."

CHAPTER XV

A MEDICAL OPINION

David Steel followed his guide with the feelings of the man who has
given himself over to circumstances. There was a savour of nightmare
about the whole thing that appealed distinctly to his imagination. The
darkness, the strange situation, the vivid streaks of the crimson
blinds--the crimson blind that seemed an integral part of the
mystery--all served to stimulate him. The tragic note was deepened by
the whine and howling of the dogs.

"There is a man over there," David whispered.

"A man who is going to stay there," Enid said, with grim satisfaction.
"It is virtually necessary that Mr. Reginald Henson should not be
disturbed. The dogs have a foolish weakness for his society. So long as
he shows no signs of boredom he is safe."

David smiled with a vague grasp of the situation. Apparently the cue was
to be surprised at nothing that he saw about the House of the Silent
Sorrow. The name of Reginald Henson was more or less familiar to him as
that of a man who stood high in public estimation. But the bitter
contempt in his companion's voice suggested that there was another side
to the man's character.

"I hope you are not asking me to do anything wrong," David murmured.

"I am absolutely certain of it," the girl said. "It is a case of the end
justifying the means; and if ever the end justified the means, it does in
this case. Besides--"

Enid Henson hesitated. David's quick perception prompted him.

"Besides, it is my suggestion," he said. "When I had the pleasure of
seeing you before--"

"Pardon me, you have n