an unsteady spring he was out
of bed and kneeling by her side. For five minutes they were very quiet,
she with her face buried in the counterpane as she prayed vaguely to
herself and God and her father to help him. So intent was she that she
did not feel his hand in her pocket. She thought his look of relief when
they stood up and he kissed her meant that once more he had beaten his
enemy.

"Girlie--go down and fill the bath for me! Right full to the brim with
cold water. Like ducking in Jordan! I feel good now. I'm going to be
clothed and in my right mind, now," he said earnestly. When she came
back, her shoulders squared again, he had vanished. She did not miss her
purse until she went to the door to buy milk. Luckily there was not very
much in it. Not till she heard the tale from Louis's lips did she
believe he had stolen it, and when she missed a few not very valuable
but very precious articles of jewellery that had belonged to her mother
she thought that his tale of enemies--Germans and Chinese--who were
dogging him, searching for valuable Government papers, must be true, and
that they had taken her few trinkets.

That night brought the climax; he had reached the limit of endurance and
was brought home by two sailors who had found him on the Man-of-War
Steps. A wild southerly buster was blowing, bringing rain with it in
floods. He was drenched and so were the sailors.

"He isn't half shikkered," said one of the boys admiringly. "Trying to
jump in the harbour, saying the Germans was after him! If we'd not been
going back to the _Astarte_ just then he'd have been in, sure enough."

"I'll get him upstairs for you, miss," said one of the sailors. "He's
going to have the rats. We'd really ought to have give him to the
police."

"I'm glad you didn't. If you can help me get him to his room--"

"Right-o, miss. Is he married?"

"Yes. I'm his wife," she said quietly. The sailors seemed to discuss the
matter together. Then one of them volunteered to stay the night, as he
guessed Louis would be dangerous.

"I'll get pulled for it to-morrow," said the boy, "but it don't seem
right to leave a girl with him."

"You _are_ nice, both of you," she said gratefully, "but don't worry.
I'm quite used to him. He'll go to sleep."

Her instinct was to get rid of spectators, to have him to herself locked
away from unsympathetic eyes. So the sailors went at last. When she got
back from seeing them out Louis was flattened against