's footsteps dying in the distance, and he made a
mighty effort to rouse himself.

"Silly of me to behave like this. Quite all right now, thanks. You must
run away before any one comes."

"Why?" demanded Bobby.

"Looks rather queer your being here like this at midnight, you know.
Wouldn't compromise you for the world."

Bobby was standing at his dressing-table searching for something, and
she wheeled upon him indignantly.

"This is no time to be thinking about looks. You lie down and stop
talking. Hold your arm up straight, like that. Keep it that way until
I come."

He did as she told him, grasping his right wrist in his left hand; but
the bright-red blood continued to spurt through his fingers, showing no
signs of abating.

"If I could only find a string!" cried Bobby, tossing the contents of
his bag this way and that. "Here's the strap on your toilet-case;
perhaps it'll do."

She knelt beside the couch, and, ripping his sleeve to the elbow,
hastily wrapped the leather thong twice about his forearm and slipped
the strap into the buckle.

"I've got to hurt you," she said resolutely, pulling with nervous
strength.

"It's most awfully good of you," murmured Percival, wearily, setting his
teeth and closing his eyes. Despite the pain, the drowsiness was getting
the better of him. He felt himself sinking through space, away from the
world, from himself, and, worst of all, from the tender, reassuring
voice that kept whispering words of comfort in his ear.

From time to time he was aware of bellboys coming and going, and of
apparently futile inquiries for Judson, for the doctor, for Mrs. Weston,
for the captain. Then for a long time he was aware of nothing whatever.

A sudden sharp pain in his arm roused him, and he opened his eyes. Bobby
still knelt on the floor beside him, unflinchingly holding the strap in
place.

"I won't have this!" he cried, struggling to sit up. "Your lips are
trembling. It's making you ill."

She laid her free hand on his shoulder.

"Please lie still! They'll be here in a minute. I thought I heard the
elevator. It won't be much longer."

There was the sound of hurrying feet in the hall, and the next instant
a quick rap at the door. Bobby looked up with great relief as a burly
English physician bustled into the room.

"How long have you had the tourniquet on, Madam?" he asked, stripping
off his gloves and falling to work.

"The what?" said Bobby.

"The strap on his arm?"

"