it up. "That's very
naughty of you. . . ."

He looked at her and started to laugh. "I'm a very naughty man, Nurse.
But for all that you've got to do something for me. No--take away that
awful basin and sponge. . . . I don't mind if I am dirty. . . .
You've got to go and bring the doctor here, and you've got to get my
clothes. And between us, Nurse, we'll cheat 'em yet."

"Cheat whom?" she asked soothingly.

"The blind, malignant imps that control us wretched humans," he
answered. "For Heaven's sake! my dear woman, do what I say. I'm not
light-headed, believe me."

And the nurse being a stoical and unimaginative lady, it was just as
well that, at that moment, the doctor entered the room. For had she
murmured in her best bedside manner. . . . "That's quite all right.
Just a nice wash, and then we'll go to sleep," there is but little
doubt that a cup of cold bovril would have deluged her ample form. As
it was the catastrophe was averted, and Vane turned to the doctor with
a sigh of relief.

"May I have a word with you alone, Doctor?" he said. "And, Nurse,
would you get my clothes for me?"

"Doctor," he went on as the door closed behind her. "I've got to
go--at once."

"My dear fellow," began the other, but Vane silenced him with a wave of
his hand.

"I may have had concussion; I may have been nearly drowned. I may be
the fool emperor for wanting to get up," he continued quietly. "But
it's got to be done. You see, I'm having a bit of a tussle with . . ."
he paused for a moment as if at a loss for a word, and then added
whimsically, "with the Powers that run things. And," savagely, "I'll
be damned if they're going to have a walk over. . . ."

The doctor eyed him gravely for a few moments without replying.

"You oughtn't to get up yet," he said at length.

"But you'll let me," cried Vane.

"There's a good train in two hours," replied the other briefly. "And
the result be upon your own head. . . ."

Vane opened the remainder of his letters on the way up to London. He
felt a little dazed and weak, though otherwise perfectly fit, and when
he had glanced through them, he stared out of the window at the
landscape flashing past. They were passing through the Black Country,
and it seemed to him to be in keeping with his thoughts--dour,
relentless, grim. The smouldering blast-furnaces, the tall, blackened
chimneys, the miles of dingy, squalid houses, all mocked the efforts of
their makers to esc