Sherrill."

The nurse waited a few minutes. "Yes; that's how it seems to me, sir.
He said something that sounded like 'Connie' a while ago, and once he
said 'Jim.' There are only four Sherrills in the telephone book, two
of them in Evanston and one way out in Minoota."

"The other?"

"They're only about six blocks from where he was picked up; but they're
on the Drive--the Lawrence Sherrills."

The interne whistled softly and looked more interestedly at his
patient's features. He glanced at his watch, which showed the hour of
the morning to be half-past four. "You'd better make a note of it," he
said. "He's not a Chicagoan; his clothes were made somewhere in
Kansas. He'll be conscious some time during the day; there's only a
slight fracture, and-- Perhaps you'd better call the Sherrill house,
anyway. If he's not known there, no harm done; and if he's one of
their friends and he should..."

The nurse nodded and moved off.

Thus it was that at a quarter to five Constance Sherrill was awakened
by the knocking of one of the servants at her father's door. Her
father went down-stairs to the telephone instrument where he might
reply without disturbing Mrs. Sherrill. Constance, kimona over her
shoulders, stood at the top of the stairs and waited. It became plain
to her at once that whatever had happened had been to Alan Conrad.

"Yes.... Yes.... You are giving him every possible care? ... At once."

She ran part way down the stairs and met her father as he came up. He
told her of the situation briefly.

"He was attacked on the street late last night; he was unconscious when
they found him and took him to the hospital, and has been unconscious
ever since. They say it was an ordinary street attack for robbery. I
shall go at once, of course; but you can do nothing. He would not know
you if you came; and of course he is in competent hands. No; no one
can say yet how seriously he is injured."

She waited in the hall while her father dressed, after calling the
garage on the house telephone for him and ordering the motor. When he
had gone, she returned anxiously to her own rooms; he had promised to
call her after reaching the hospital and as soon as he had learned the
particulars of Alan's condition. It was ridiculous, of course, to
attach any responsibility to her father or herself for what had
happened to Alan--a street attack such as might have happened to any
one--yet she felt that they were in par