Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 4).djvu/516

 "You mean you were at the dance?" she cried, wildly. "At the dance! Then you are—that is, you are not—"

"A patient?" I shouted, a light breaking suddenly upon me. "Not I, thank Heaven! And you?"

But she was gone. Before you could say "Jack Robinson!" that girl was up two flights of stairs and out of sight, leaving me like one in a dream, gazing stupidly at the knife, which she had flung on the carpet at my feet. Then I slowly turned and made for my room.

During the remainder of that bewildering night much of the truth dawned upon me; but it was not until after explanation that learned and realized in its fullest extent the heroism of my beautiful companion. I was told that she was Dr. Stelling's ward, and that, though staying in the house, a severe headache had kept her to her room during the dance, and of the subsequent housing of so many of the guests she, of course, knew nothing. On awakening from the first heavy sleep into which she had fallen, she was startled by the sound of the clicking of the sliding panel—which I manipulated clumsily enough—and, cautiously opening her door, she caught sight of a strange man creeping stealthily past. She was perfectly familiar with all the inmates of the house—including the attendants—and, as I was quite unknown to her, she decided at once that I was probably a patient escaped from supervision, and determined to follow me at all costs and give the alarm. But it was not until she saw me seize the carving-knife that her apprehensions reached a climax; and it was at that moment that I first caught sight of her in the glass. Afterwards, half dead with fright, she remained by my side, having the strength of mind to sustain a two hours' tête-à-tête with one whom she believed to be a dangerous lunatic, in the hope that her presence might avert a catastrophe.

That she was Dr. Stelling's ward I learned from Mrs. Stelling, who, knitting in hand, was entertaining me with a cup of tea and small talk the next afternoon, when all the noisy guests had departed. I had remained in my room until late in the day, really feeling too seedy to put in an appearance earlier, and had just accepted a pressing invitation from the Stellings that I should remain with them for a few days, and be doctored up.

"You really look thoroughly out of sorts, Mr. Carlton," said my kind hostess, eyeing me sympathetically; "and now that all these gay you people have cleared off, I shall have to nurse you up before we allow you to leave us."

I assured the good lady that I should, in a very few hours, be as good as new again, and wondered how I should find out, as I was burning to do, whether my unknown acquaintance had also "cleared off" with the rest.

"Nobody is here now but Dulcie," con-