ve all, the peculiar feeling that something not
over-pleasant must have frightened Betsy, and that it might frighten me
before many minutes had passed. Listening intently, I could not at
first hear a sound in all the house--but just when I was telling myself
not to be a fool, I heard, as plainly as ever I heard anything in my
life, a sigh as of some one groaning in pain; and at that I do believe
I dropped the girl clean on to the floor and made a dash into the
nearest room in a state of mind I should have been ashamed to confess
even to my own brother.

What did it mean, who was playing tricks with us, and what was the
mystery? I looked round the apartment and made it out to be the
dining-room, plainly furnished, well lighted, but as empty of people as
Westminster Abbey at twelve o'clock of a Sunday night. A smaller room
to the right lay in darkness, but I found the switch and satisfied
myself in a moment that no one was hidden there; nor did a search in
every nook and cranny near by enlighten me further. What was even
worse was the fact that I could now hear the groaning very plainly; and
when I had stood a minute, with my heart beating like a steam pump and
my eyes half blinded with the shadows and the light, I discovered, just
in a flash, that whoever groaned was not in any room of the house,
neither in the hall nor upon the staircase, but in the very basket I
had just laid down and should have carried to the floor above before
many minutes had passed.

I am not going to state here precisely what I thought or did when I
made that astonishing discovery, or just what I felt at the moment when
I tried to understand its significance. Perhaps I could not remember
half that happened even if I tried to do so. My clearest memory is of
a dark, silent street, and of me standing there, bare-headed, with a
fainting girl in my arms, and a civil old chap with white whiskers
asking again and again, "My good fellow, whatever is the matter and
what on earth are you doing here?" When I answered him it was to beg
him for God's sake to tell me the name of the nearest doctor--and at
that I remember he simply pointed to the house opposite and to a brass
plate upon its door.

"I am Mr. Harrison, the surgeon," he said quickly; "I am just buying a
motor, and so I crossed the road to look at yours. Tell me what has
happened and what is the matter with the woman."

I told him as quietly as I could.

"God knows what it is--perhaps