en he tries to get up, but
in a minute or two he throws himself down on the bed again and hides
his face. If any one rings at the bell, he shrieks. If he hears a
footfall in the street, even, he calls out for me. Mr. Laverick, I
have never been so frightened in my life. I didn't know whom to
send for or what to do. When he wrote that note to you I was so
relieved. You can't imagine how glad I am to think you have come!"

Laverick's eyes were full of sympathy. One could see that the
scene of last night had risen up again before her eyes. She was
shrinking back, and the terror was upon her once more. He moved
over to her side, and with an impulse which, when he thought of it
afterwards, amazed him, laid his hand gently upon her shoulder.

"Don't worry yourself thinking about it," he said. "I will talk to
your brother. We did have words, I'll admit, last night, but there
wasn't the slightest reason why it should have upset him in this
way. Things in the city were shocking yesterday, but they have
improved a great deal to-day. Let me go upstairs and I'll try and
pump some courage into him."

"You are so kind," she murmured, suddenly dropping her hands from
before her face and looking up at him with shining eyes, "so very
kind. Will you come, then?"

She rose and he followed her out of the room, up the stairs, and
into a tiny bedroom. Laverick had no time to look around, but it
seemed to him, notwithstanding the cheap white furniture and very
ordinary appointments, that the same note of dainty femininity
pervaded this little apartment as the one below.

"It is my room," she said shyly. "There is no other properly
furnished, and I thought that he might sleep upon the bed."

"Perhaps he is asleep now," Laverick whispered.

Even as he spoke, the dark figure stretched upon the sheets sprang
into a sitting posture. Laverick was conscious of a distinct shock.
It was Morrison, still wearing the clothes in which he had left the
office, his collar crushed out of all shape, his tie vanished. His
black hair, usually so shiny and perfectly arranged, was all
disordered. Out of his staring eyes flashed an expression which one
sees seldom in life,--an expression of real and mortal terror.

"Who is it?" he cried out, and even his voice was unrecognizable.
"Who is that? What do you want?"

"It is I--Laverick," Laverick answered. "What on earth is the
matter with you, man?"

Morrison drew a quick breath. Som