over's ardor and
tenderness tried to comfort her. Then, rather clumsily, he showed her
the automatic writing, not quite sure whether to present this as a thing
that he believed in or not.

Penelope studied the large, scrawled words.

"How wonderful!" she murmured. "I remember vaguely writing something,
but I had no idea what it was. My mother! It must be true! It's her
handwriting. She was watching over us, dear--she is watching over us
still. That ought to give us courage, oughtn't it?"

She glanced nervously at the little gilt clock that was ticking quietly
over the fireplace. Ten minutes to twelve!

"What is this danger, that she speaks of, Chris? What is it--that you
are carrying?"

The captain's answer was partly an evasion. He really did not know what
danger was referred to, unless it could be a small flask from the
laboratory with a gas specimen for Dr. Owen that he had left in the
other room in his coat, but this was in a little steel container and
could do no harm.

"It may mean some spiritual danger, Pen, from selfishness or want of
faith or--or something like that," he suggested. "I guess I am selfish
and impatient--don't you think so?"

"Impatient, Chris?"

"I mean impatient for you to get well, impatient to take you far away
from all these doctors and dreams, and just have you to myself. That
isn't very wicked, is it, sweetheart?"

He stroked her hand fondly and looked deep into her wonderful eyes.
Penelope sighed.

"I--I suppose it will all be over soon--I mean we shall know what's
going to happen, won't we?"

It was her first open reference to the peril hanging over them, and
again, involuntarily, she glanced at the clock. Five minutes to twelve!
It was really twenty-five minutes past twelve!--but she did not know
that.

"Darling, I don't believe anything is going to happen. Our troubles are
over. You are guarded by this beautiful love--all these prayers. I've
been saying prayers, myself, Pen--for both of us."

"Dear boy!"

"I want you to promise me one thing--you love me, don't you? No matter
what happens, you love me?"

Her eyes glowed on him.

"Oh yes, with all my heart."

"You're going to be my wife."

"Ye--es, if--if--"

"All right, we'll put down the _ifs_. I want you to promise that if this
foolish spell, or whatever it is, is broken tonight--if nothing happens
at half-past twelve, and you don't have this bad dream, then you'll
forget the whole miserable business and mar