oria seized
his arm with a firm, detaining hand.

"Please wait,--Mr. Vane," she pleaded.

But the feeling of shame at his helplessness was strong.

"It's over now. I--I can walk. I'm much obliged to you, Victoria--much
obliged."

Fortunately Hilary's horse showed no inclination to go any farther--even
to the stable. And Victoria held on to his arm. He ceased to protest,
and Mr. Rangely quickly tied the other horse and came to Victoria's aid.
Supported by the young Englishman, Hilary climbed the stone steps and
reached the porch, declaring all the while that he needed no assistance,
and could walk alone. Victoria rang the bell, and after an interval the
door was opened by Euphrasia Cotton.

Euphrasia stood upright with her hand on the knob, and her eyes flashed
over the group and rested fixedly on the daughter of Mr. Flint.

"Mr. Vane was not very well," Victoria explained, "and we came home with
him."

"I'm all right," said Hilary, once more, and to prove it he stepped--not
very steadily--across the threshold into the hall, and sat down on
a chair which had had its place at the foot of the stairs from time
immemorial. Euphrasia stood still.

"I think," said Victoria, "that Mr. Vane had better see a doctor. Have
you a telephone?"

"No, we haven't," said Euphrasia.

Victoria turned to Mr. Rangely, who had been a deeply interested
spectator to this scene.

"A little way down the street, on the other side, Dr. Tredway lives. You
will see his sign."

"And if he isn't in, go to the hospital. It's only a few doors farther
on."

"I'll wait," said Victoria, simply, when he had gone; "my father will
wish to know about Mr. Vane."

"Hold on," said Hilary, "I haven't any use for a doctor--I won't see
one. I know what the trouble is, and I'm all right."

Victoria became aware--for the first time that Hilary Vane's housekeeper
had not moved; that Euphrasia Cotton was still staring at her in a most
disconcerting manner, and was paying no attention whatever to Hilary.

"Come in and set down," she said; and seeing Victoria glance at Hilary's
horse, she added, "Oh, he'll stand there till doomsday."

Victoria, thinking that the situation would be less awkward, accepted
the invitation, and Euphrasia shut the door. The hall, owing to the fact
that the shutters of the windows by the stairs were always closed,
was in semidarkness. Victoria longed to let in the light, to take this
strange, dried-up housekeeper and shake h