lls ring for
the first time, how then Galloway and Norton had been but meaningless
names to her, how she had been little moved by either the sound of
pistol-shots or the Captain's heavy tolling. Now things were
different. Just in what were they "different" and to what degree? She
could not answer her own question before she was at the hotel.

Struve came immediately, noted her pale face, attributed it to a
sleepless night, and made her take a cup of coffee. He rounded out the
information she already had from Ignacio. Norton was still unconscious
though, only a few minutes ago, Patten had reported signs of
improvement. Mrs. Engle had been with him, was still there acting
nurse; he was being given every attention possible.

Patten himself entered, drawn by the aroma of coffee. He nodded
carelessly to the girl and remarked to Struve, with a flash of triumph
in his eyes, that at last he had "brought him around." Norton was very
weak, sick, dizzy, perhaps not yet out of danger. But Patten had won
in the initial skirmish with old man Death.

At least, so Struve was given to feel. Virginia, with a quick look at
Patten's complacent face, was moved with sudden, almost insistent
longing, that Rod Norton's life might be given into her own hands
rather than remain in the pudgy hands of a man she at once disliked as
an individual and failed to admire as a physician. For she had needed
no long residence in San Juan to form her own estimate of the man's
ability . . . or lack of ability. But plainly this was Patten's case,
not hers; she got up from the table and went into her own room.

Elmer she found lying fully dressed upon a couch in her office,
sleeping heavily. She stood over him a moment, her eyes tender; he was
still, would always be, her baby brother. Then she went to her own
room and threw herself down upon her bed, worn out, anxious, vaguely
fearful for the future.

It was a long day for San Juan. Mrs. Engle came now and then to
Virginia's room to wipe her eyes and force a hopeful smile; Florrie ran
in like a young tempest to weep copiously and hyperbolically invest
poor dear Roddy with all imaginable heroic attributes; Engle and Struve
and Tom Cutter were grave-eyed and distressed. Every hour Ignacio came
to the hotel to ask quietly for news.

In his own way, it appeared that Elmer Page was as deeply concerned as
any one. It was long before he told Virginia that he had been in the
Casa Blanca when th