babble of excited voices gave her an excuse to gasp,
and stammer out a conventional "Where am I?"

"We'll get you to your room, dear," said Beverley; and Clo wondered if
her acting had deceived Angel. "The butler can----"

"No, thanks, I'll manage her by myself," O'Reilly broke in and carried
the white bundle along the hall.

"This is her room," Mrs. Sands explained to him. "If you will put her on
the bed...."

"No--please! Take me on into the next room, Sister Lake's room. I must
be there. I'll tell you why presently," the girl pleaded.

Beverley threw open the door between the two rooms, hurried ahead, and
turned on a light.

"Now, lay me on this bed," Clo commanded.

Having obeyed, O'Reilly stood as if awaiting further orders. Clo glanced
from him imploringly to Mrs. Sands. "I've gone through such a lot!" she
moaned. "I've suffered so! I felt I could never get home alive. Please,
Mr. O'Reilly--you've been kind--don't let it all be for nothing!"

"What do you want of me?" he stiffly inquired.

"Only for you to talk to Mrs. Sands. In that next room--my room. Nobody
will disturb you. If the nurse comes back, she'll come into her own room
first. That's why I asked you to bring me to it. I couldn't persuade you
to give me the papers. Perhaps even Mrs. Sands can't persuade you. But I
beg, I pray you, to give her the chance. Listen to what she has to say."

"Very well," he answered, grudgingly. "I'll do what you ask. But I'll do
it for your sake."

Beverley had remained on the threshold of the next room. Now she
retreated into it. O'Reilly followed; but at the door he turned.
"Good-bye," he said to Clo.

"Good-bye," she echoed. "And thank you again--for everything."

She had more to thank him for than he knew--the contents of her tightly
clutched hand.

XII

THE HORIZONTAL PANEL

Following Mrs. Sands, O'Reilly left the door between the two rooms open;
but Beverley stepped quickly back and closed it.

"She's grand, the darling!" thought Clo. "Trust her to forget nothing.
Her shutting that door proves how she counts on me."

The girl was deadly tired, and her head ached, yet she struggled up as
the door clicked. O'Reilly had brought in her hat and dropped it on a
table. There was no hat-pin, but Clo crushed the soft toque down over
her masses of red hair, and hoped she was not untidy enough to be
conspicuous. Unsteadily she tottered to another door--the door that led
into the corridor. This face