allurement, he had heard it called. Also, her hands were shapely and
pretty. He recalled the saying that a woman may keep her age out of her
face, but her hands will betray her. Mrs. Honoria's hands were still
young; they looked almost as young as Patricia's, he decided. At the
comparison he broke over the rule of silence.

"Does Patricia know?" he asked.

"Certainly. She has been here nearly all morning. She wouldn't let
anybody else hold your head while the doctor was sewing it up."

"I know," he returned; "that is a part of her--of her special training:
first aid to the injured, and all that. They teach it in the German
sociological schools she attended last year."

"Oh, yes; I see"--with a malicious little smile to accentuate the
curving downdroop of the pretty eyelids. "You mean that she was just
getting a bit of practice. I wondered why she was so willing; most young
women are so silly about the sight of a little blood. Don't you think
you'd better try to sleep for a while? Doctor Dillon said it would be
good for you if you could."

"Heavens and earth!" he chanted impatiently; "I'm not sick!" And then,
with a sharp fear stabbing him: "What day is this, please?"

She looked up with a smile. "Are you wondering if you have lost a day?
You haven't. The fire was at three o'clock this morning, and this is
Saturday."

As if the naming of the day had been a spell to strike him dumb, Blount
shut his eyes and groped helplessly for some hand-hold upon the suddenly
rehabilitated responsibilities. Saturday--the day when Gryson would
return with the proofs which, if they were to serve any good end, must
be given the widest possible publicity in the two days remaining before
the election. Blount recalled his carefully laid plans: he had intended
giving Collins and the two record clerks a half-holiday, so that Gryson
might come and go unnoticed. Also, he had meant to make a definite
appointment with Blenkinsop and the representative of the United Press,
to the end that there might be no delay in the firing of the mine.
Lastly, Gryson must be shielded and gotten out of the city in safety; so
much the traitor had a right to demand if he should risk his liberty and
his life by returning with the evidence.

It was a hideous tangle to owe itself to the joyous gambollings of the
firemen's mascot dog. And there was more to it than the hopeless
smashing of the Saturday's plans. Into the midst of the mordant
reflections, and addi