two figures, black as if cut out of
velvet. One, that of a man, was singularly tall and thin, as a
Mephistopheles of the stage. The other was that of a woman in a long
cloak, small and slight as a child of fourteen. Dierdre O'Farrell, of
course! It could be no one else. But who was the man? A dim impression
that the figure was vaguely familiar, or had been familiar long ago,
teased my brain. But surely I could never have seen it before.

"Hurrah! There she is!" cried O'Farrell, "alive and on her pins!"

At the sound of his voice, the velvet silhouettes stirred. They had
turned to look at us, and a glint of moonlight made the two faces white
and blank as masks. O'Farrell waved his hand, and I was obliged to
quicken my steps to keep pace with Brian: "I suppose she got lost--serve
her right!--and the beanpole has escorted her home," grumbled Puck; but
as he spoke, the beanpole in question hurriedly made a gesture of
salute, and stalked away with enormous strides. In an instant he was
engulfed by a shadow-wave and his companion was left to meet us alone. I
thought it would be like her to whisk into the hotel and vanish before
we could arrive, but she did not. She stood still, with a fierce little
air of defiance; and as we came near I saw that under the thrown-back
cloak her left arm was in a white sling.

Her brother saw it also. "Hullo, what have you been up to?" he wanted to
know. "You've given us the scare of our lives!"

"Thank you," the girl said. "Please speak for yourself!"

"He may speak for us, too," Brian assured her. "We thought of the air
raid. And even now, I don't feel as if we'd been wrong. Your voice
sounds as if you were in pain. You've been hurt!"

"It's nothing at all," she answered shortly, but her tone softened
slightly for Brian. Even _she_ had her human side, it seemed. "A window
splintered near where I was, and I got a few bits of glass in my arm.
They're out now--every one. A doctor came, and looked after me. You see,
Jule!" and she nodded her head at the sling. "Now I'm going in to bed.
Good-night!"

"Wait, and let my sister help you," Brian proposed. "She's a splendid
nurse. I know she'll be delighted."

"Sweet of her!" sneered the girl. "But _I'm_ a trained nurse, too, and I
can take care of myself. It's only my left arm that's hurt, and a
scratch at that. I don't need any help from any one."

"Was that man we saw the doctor who put you in your sling?" asked
"Jule," in the blunt way b