as otherwise.

"I don't mind," she said. "I don't seem to know just how I got here, and
perhaps you can tell me. I just woke up and found myself sleepin' on
somebody's bed. I thought at first that I was back in the ward, when I
found my feet was tied up. Then when I got loose and had time to feel
around, I saw 'twas some strange place. Then the fire escapes sort of
looked nice and cool, so I came out."

By this time her visitor had climbed beside her and had seated himself
on the landing in such fashion that no move of hers could dislodge
either of the strange couple. He noted with relief that they were
outside of a door instead of a window, as was the case on all the floors
below. The drying roof of the hotel only was above them. He did not wish
this extraordinary interview to be interrupted. His airy nest-mate
seemed amenable to conversation.

"Well, well!" he resumed, "so _that_ was the way you worked it. Wouldn't
that make the doctor mad, though--what was the old duffer's name,
anyway? You did tell me, but I've got such a poor memory--now, yours is
good, I'll bet a hat."

"Well," she said, "'tain't what it used to be, but I'll never forget old
Malbey's name as long as I live, nor what he looks like, either. He
looks like a potato with sprouts for eyes."

Brencherly laughed. He had a very clear, if unflattering, picture of the
learned physician.

"But, say," she cried suddenly, "you're not trying to get me, are you?"

"Oh, _I'm_ no friend of the doctor's," he said easily. "Why, I brought
you up here to hide you away safely. That was one of my rooms you woke
up in. You see, I found you on a bench in the park out there, and you
went to sleep so suddenly right while I was talking to you, that I
thought you must be tired out."

She leaned forward, peering at him through the dusk. Her white pinched
face looked skull-like in the faint light.

"Yes," she said slowly, "seems to me that I remember some woman saying
she killed Victor Mahr, and me getting angry about it--and then I don't
seem to know just _what_ happened. Well, young man, I'm much obliged to
you, I'm sure. 'Tain't often an old woman like me gets so well taken
care of."

"But why," he questioned softly, "were you so annoyed with the other
lady? She had just as much right as you had, I suppose, to kill the
gentleman?"

"She had not!" she shrilled. "She had not!" Then lowering her voice to a
whisper, she murmured confidentially: "_My_ name ain't Well