f
the bridge was an arc lamp. As the first car passed under the light, he
caught a glimpse of it--a grey touring car, evidently capable of speed.

Paul didn't think of this again until he was near the place where he had
decided to pass the night. At the corner of the street ahead of him a
grey car stopped and three men got out--his blonde companion of the train
among them, conspicuous both on account of his height and his beard.

"That's the same car," thought Paul, watching it roll away; and frowning
as he thought of his Russian acquaintance of the morning he uneasily
added, "I wonder what they were doing on that bridge...."

CHAPTER XXXIII

The next morning Wally was a little better.

He was still unconscious, but thanks to the surgeon his breathing was
less laboured and he was resting more quietly. Mary had stayed with Helen
overnight, and more than once it had occurred to her that even as it
requires darkness to bring out the beauty of the stars, so in the shadow
of overhanging disaster, Helen's better qualities came into view and
shone with unexpected radiance.

"I know..." thought Mary. "It's partly because she's sorry, and partly
because she's busy, too. She's doing the most useful work she ever did in
her life, and it's helping her as much as it's helping him--"

They had a day nurse, but Helen had insisted upon doing the night work
herself. There were sedatives to be given, bandages to be kept moist.
Mary wanted to stay up, too, but Helen didn't like that.

"I want to feel that I'm doing something for him--all myself," she said,
and with a quivering lip she added, "Oh, Mary... If he ever gets over
this...!"

And in the morning, to their great joy, the doctor pronounced him a
little better. Mary would have stayed longer, but that was the day when
the labour leaders were to visit the factory; so after hearing the
physician's good report, she started for the office.

At ten o'clock she telephoned Helen who told her that Wally had just
fallen off into his first quiet sleep.

"I'm going to get some sleep myself, now, if I can," she added. "The
nurse has promised to call me when he wakes."

Mary breathed easier, for some deep instinct told her that Wally would
come through it all right. She was still smiling with satisfaction when
Joe of the Plumed Hair came in with three cards, the dignity of his
manner attesting to the importance of the names.

"All right, Joe, send them in," she said. "And I