The driver threw on his high speed after a promise that his fine would be paid and ten dollars over should they be stopped. He made the house in fifteen minutes and was lucky enough not to pass a policeman. Donaldson jumping out bade him wait for further orders.

Donaldson received no response to his ring. He tried the latch and found the door locked. On a run he skirted the house to the rear. The back door was open. He pushed through into the cold kitchen, through this into the dining room, and so into the hall. There was no sign either of the servant or of the girl herself. He was now thoroughly alarmed.

As he ran up the stairs he was confronted by what he took to be an old witch in a purple wrapper. She barred his way in a decidedly militant manner, her sunken black eyes flashing anger. She seemed about to spring at him.

"Bien," she croaked, "qui diable are you?"

He paused.

"You are Marie?" he demanded.

"Bien, and you?"

A voice came from a room leading from the hall. "Marie, who is it? Is it Ben?"

"I know not who it is," Marie shouted back; "but if he comes up another step I will tear out his eyes."

"Miss Arsdale," called Donaldson, "is anything the trouble? It is I—Donaldson."

"You!"

Her voice, which had at first sounded weary, as the voice of one who has waited a long while, gathered strength.

"It is all right, Marie," she called. "This—this is my friend."

Marie relaxed and gripped the banister for support. She was weak.

"I have never seen him before," she challenged.

There was a movement at the door.

"No, you have never seen him. Come here a moment, Marie."

With difficulty the old woman hobbled back into the room to her mistress, and for a few moments Donaldson waited impatiently for the next development. It came when he heard her voice asking him to come in. He was in the room in three strides. She was sitting in her chair with her head bandaged, Marie sitting by her side as though liking but little his intrusion. At sight of the white strip across her forehead, he caught his breath.

"What does this mean?" he demanded with quick assumption of authority.

"You must n\'t think it is anything serious," she hastened to explain, awed by the fierceness of his manner. "It is only that—that he came back."

"Arsdale?"

"Yes."

"Where is he now?"

"He went away again. Marie and I tried to hold him, but we weren\'t strong enough."

"It would be easier to hold the devil," interpolated Marie.

"But you," asked the girl,—"I was afraid you had met with an accident."

"I?" he cried. "I was asleep—asleep like a drunken lout."

"All yesterday—all last night?" she asked in astonishment.

"Yes," he admitted, as though it were an accusation.

"Ah, that is good," she replied. "You needed the rest."

"Needed rest, and you in this danger?" he exclaimed contemptuously. "It was unpardonable of me."

"No! No! Don\'t say that. You could have done nothing had you been here."

"If ever I get my hands on him again," he cried below his breath.

"Mon Dieu," broke in Marie. "If I, too—"

"Hush," interrupted the girl. "It is quite useless for any of us to attempt more until his money gives out. He came back and found a few dollars in my purse."

She had fought this madman, she and this rheumatic old woman, while he had slept! She had called to him and he had not answered! The blood went hot to his cheeks. It was enough to make a man feel craven.

The wounded girl rested her bandaged head on the back of the chair. At the light in Donaldson\'s eyes, Marie straightened herself aggressively.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked quietly.

"Only a bump," she laughed, remembering how he had stood by the ladder. "Marie insisted upon this," she added, lightly touching the cloth about her forehead.

"A bump?" snorted Marie. "It is a miracle that she was not altogether killed. She—"

But a hand upon the old servant\'s arm checked her indignation.

"You two women cannot remain here any longer alone," he said authoritatively. "Either you must allow me to take you to the shelter of some friend or—"

"There is no one," she interrupted quickly. "No one to whom I would go in this condition. They would not understand."

"Then," he said, "I must secure a nurse for you."

"Am I not able to care for the p\'tite?" demanded Marie. "A nurse!"

"A nurse is needed to care for you both. I am going downstairs now to summon one."

She protested feebly, and Marie vigorously, but he was insistent.

"I ought to call your family physician—"

"No, Mr. Donaldson, you must not do that."

She was firm upon this point, so he went below to do what else he might.

At the telephone he found the explanation of his inability to get the house in the fact that the receiver was hanging loose. It was another accusation. Doubtless in her weakened condition she had dropped it from her hand and turned away, too dazed to replace it. The hot shame of it dried his tongue so that he could scarcely make himself understood. In spite of this he accomplished many things in a very few minutes. The operator gave him the number of a near-by reliable nurse, and finding her in, he sent off the cab for her. Then through an employment bureau he secured a cook who agreed to reach the house within an hour. He then telephoned the nearest market and ordered everything he could think of from beefsteak to fruit, and to this added eve............