her hand over her heart while Aggie told her story. "I follow
you," she said. "Did you tell him I was here? Did he send you to fetch
me?"

"He didn't speak," said Aggie.

"Is he unconscious?"

"Yes."

"I'll go with you at once."

Hurrying across the streets by Glory's side, Aggie apologized for her
room again. "I down't live thet wy now, you know," she said. "It may seem
strange to you, but while my little boy was alive I couldn't go into the
streets to save my life--I couldn't do it. And when 'is pore father died
lahst week----"

The stone stairs to the tenement house were thronged with women. They
stood huddled together in groups like sheep in a storm. There was not a
man anywhere visible, except a drunken sailor, who was coming down from
an upper story whistling and singing. The women silenced him. Had he no
feelings?

"The doctor's came, Sister," said a woman standing by Aggie's door. Then
Glory entered the room.

The poor disordered place was lit by a cheap lamp, which threw splashes
of light and left tracts of shadow. John lay on the bed, muttering words
that were inaudible. His coat and waistcoat had been removed, and his
shirt was open at the neck. The high wall of his forehead was marble
white, but his cheeks were red and feverish. One of his arms lay over the
side of the bed and Glory took it up and held it. Her great eyes were
moist, but she did not cry, neither did she speak or move. The doctor was
bathing a wound at the back of the head, and he looked up and nodded as
Glory entered. At the other side of the bed an elderly woman in a widow's
cap was wiping her eyes with her apron.

When the doctor was going away, Glory followed him to the door.

"Is he seriously injured, doctor?"

"Very." The doctor was a young man--quick, brusque, and emphatic.

"Not dange----"

"Yes. The brutes have done for him, nurse, though you needn't tell his
friends so."

"Then--there is--no chance--whatever?"

"Not a ghost of a chance. By the way, you might try to find out where his
friends are, and send a line to them. I'll be here in the morning.
Good-night!"

Glory staggered back to the room, with her hand pressed hard over her
heart, and the young doctor, going downstairs two steps at a stride, met
a police sergeant and a reporter coming up. "Cruel business, sir!" "Yes,
but just one of those things that can't easily be brought home to
anybody." "Sad, though!" "Very sad!"

The short night seemed as if it