e in the small emergency ward to which Johnny
had been taken. Under the white lights his boyish figure looked
strangely long. There was a group around the bed--Max Wilson, two or
three internes, the night nurse on duty, and the Head.

Sitting just inside the door on a straight chair was Sidney--such a
Sidney as he never had seen before, her face colorless, her eyes wide
and unseeing, her hands clenched in her lap. When he stood beside her,
she did not move or look up. The group around the bed had parted to
admit Mrs. Rosenfeld, and closed again. Only Sidney and K. remained by
the door, isolated, alone.

"You must not take it like that, dear. It's sad, of course. But, after
all, in that condition--"

It was her first knowledge that he was there. But she did not turn.

"They say I poisoned him." Her voice was dreary, inflectionless.

"You--what?"

"They say I gave him the wrong medicine; that he's dying; that I
murdered him." She shivered.

K. touched her hands. They were ice-cold.

"Tell me about it."

"There is nothing to tell. I came on duty at six o'clock and gave the
medicines. When the night nurse came on at seven, everything was all
right. The medicine-tray was just as it should be. Johnny was asleep. I
went to say good-night to him and he--he was asleep. I didn't give him
anything but what was on the tray," she finished piteously. "I looked at
the label; I always look."

By a shifting of the group around the bed, K.'s eyes looked for a moment
directly into Carlotta's. Just for a moment; then the crowd closed up
again. It was well for Carlotta that it did. She looked as if she had
seen a ghost--closed her eyes, even reeled.

"Miss Harrison is worn out," Dr. Wilson said brusquely. "Get some one to
take her place."

But Carlotta rallied. After all, the presence of this man in this room
at such a time meant nothing. He was Sidney's friend, that was all.

But her nerve was shaken. The thing had gone beyond her. She had not
meant to kill. It was the boy's weakened condition that was turning her
revenge into tragedy.

"I am all right," she pleaded across the bed to the Head. "Let me stay,
please. He's from my ward. I--I am responsible."

Wilson was at his wits' end. He had done everything he knew without
result. The boy, rousing for an instant, would lapse again into stupor.
With a healthy man they could have tried more vigorous measures--could
have forced him to his feet and walked him about, could ha