g up her hand before her eyes, her elbow on the bed. She found
strength to rise in a few moments. There were things that she and Gaynor
must see to at once. She looked about the room. Thank God, the nursery
windows were barred! She had a dread feeling that Cecil might be able to
crawl over the sheer face of a building, like "Dracula." She turned to
Miller, whose little blue eyes still stared inquisitively. There was
something "beyond" in all this, the nurse was telling herself shrewdly.

"I wish you to lock the nursery doors on the inside to-night, Miller,"
Sophy said, looking frankly at her. "Mr. Chesney is delirious. I'm
afraid he might startle you. He is very restless."

Miller paled. Privately, she had decided, long ago, that the master was
"a bit off his head"; but she had orders never to lock the nursery
doors, for fear of fire.

"I will do, madam," she said with energy.

Sophy went to her own room again, bidding Gaynor come with her. She shut
the door and told him what had happened.

"Go and see if he is in his room now, Gaynor. I will wait here."

Gaynor returned saying that his master had again locked his door.

"Is he in the room, Gaynor?"

The man looked startled.

"I suppose so, madam. He would not answer when I knocked; but why else
would he lock the door?"

"I don't know," said Sophy. "But I feel very uneasy. Is there any way
that he could get out except by the door?"

"There's a ledge of the East Wing roof that passes under one of his
windows, madam. But why should he want to get out on the roof?"

"I don't know," said Sophy again. "Perhaps it is only that I'm nervous.
But we must tell Doctor Bellamy, Gaynor. You must go to his room and
wake him."

Bellamy hurried on his clothes when the valet had explained to him. He
went to Sophy's room, where Gaynor said that she was awaiting him. She,
too, had dressed herself fully, in serge skirt and jacket. Somehow she
felt that she must be dressed to meet emergencies--to go out into the
night, if necessary. She looked oddly girlish in the plain, dark-blue
costume. She had wound her long braid round and round her head to avoid
its weight at the nape of her neck. This added to the girlish, scared
look of her pale face.

"This is terrible, Mrs. Chesney," said Bellamy. "I feel that your life
has been in danger. He must be a madman for the time being, with that
crude spirit in him--nearly a quart within six hours, Gaynor tells me. I
think Lady Wychcote