s was above reproach. The man's
failure to succeed as an artist, while it might have been a source of
chagrin to his art-loving wife, did not lower him to any extent in Dr.
Anstruther's opinion.

"I suppose Alora does not remember her father?" he presently remarked.

"She was about two years old when we separated."

"And you say your will is already drawn?"

"Judge Bernsted, my lawyer, has attended to it. It is now in his
possession, properly signed and witnessed."

"If Bernsted drew the will, it is doubtless legal and in accordance
with your wishes. But who witnessed it?"

"My nurse, Janet."

He glanced at the motionless figure of the attendant, who had remained
so inert at her post by the window that he had quite forgotten her
presence. She was a young woman, perhaps thirty years of age, and not
unprepossessing in appearance, in spite of her modest uniform.

Janet's one peculiarity was her downcast eyes. They were good eyes,
bright and intelligent, but she kept them veiled by their long lashes
and drooping lids. Dr. Anstruther attached no significance to this
trait, doubtless a habit of modest reserve acquired in her profession.
He had himself recommended the woman to Mrs. Jones, having frequently
employed her on other cases and found her deft, skillful and thoroughly
reliable. Janet Orme's signature to the will he regarded as
satisfactory, since Judge Bernsted had accepted it.

A moan from his patient suddenly aroused the doctor. Her face was
beginning to twitch spasmodically with pain. In an instant Janet was at
her side, hypodermic needle in hand, and the opiate was soon
administered.

"Send the telegram," muttered Mrs. Jones, still breathing hard; "and,
as you go out, Doctor, send Alora to me. I shall have relief in a few
moments."

"To be sure," he said, rising. "Lory has been begging to see you, and
I'll attend to the telegram at once."

CHAPTER II
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER

The child crept softly to her mother's bedside, but once there she
impulsively threw her arms about "Mamma Tone's" neck and embraced her
so tightly that the sick woman was obliged to tear the little arms
away. She did this tenderly, though, and holding the trembling hands in
her own kissed both of Lory's cheeks before she said:

"I've news for you, dear."

"Are you better, mamma?" asked Lory.

"Of course not," was the calm reply. "You mustn't expect mamma ever to
get well, my darling. But that shouldn't worry you--not too