you. If you take her with you,
will your Jean be proud of her Daddy in France?"

CHAPTER XI

HILDA WEARS A CROWN

At two o'clock on Thanksgiving morning the light burned low in the
General's room. Hilda, wide awake, was reading. Derry stopped at the
door.

She rose at once and went to him.

"Is he all right, Miss Merritt?"

"Yes. He's sound asleep."

"Then you think he's better?"

"Much better."

"Good. I hope you can stay on the case. Dr. McKenzie says it is all
because of your splendid care of him. I just left McKenzie, by the
way. I took him and his daughter to the ball at the Willard. We had a
corking time."

Her eyes saw a change in him. This was not the listless Derry with
whom she had talked the day before--here were flushed cheeks and
shining eyes--gay youth and gladness--.

"A corking time," Derry reiterated. "The President was there, and his
wife--and we danced a lot--and--" he caught himself up. "Well,
good-night, Miss Merritt."

"Good-night." She went back to the shadowed room.

Bronson, following Derry, came back in a half hour with a dry, "Is
there anything I can do for you, Miss Merritt?" and then the house was
still.

And now Hilda was alone with the old man in the lacquered bed. There
would be no interruptions until morning. It was the moment for which
she had waited ever since the hour when the General had sent her into
his wife's room for a miniature of Derry, which was locked in the safe.

The suite which had belonged to Mrs. Drake consisted of three rooms--a
sitting room, a bedroom and a sun-parlor which had been Derry's
nursery. Nothing had been changed since her death. Every day a maid
cleaned and dusted, and at certain seasons the clothes in the presses
were brushed and aired and put back again. In a little safe in the
wall were jewels, and the key was on the General's ring. He had given
the key to Hilda when he had sent her for the miniature. His fever had
been high, and he had not been quite himself. Even a nurse with a
finer sense of honor might have argued, however, that her patient must
be obeyed. So she knew now where his treasure was kept--behind a
Chinese scroll, which when rolled up revealed the panel which hid the
safe.

Hilda had never worn a jewel of value in her life. She possessed, it
is true, a few trinkets, a gold ring with her monogram engraved in it,
a string of Roman pearls, and a plain wrist watch. But such brilliance
as t