eave me! Leave me now, won't you?"

The high, shrill quality of her tone brought Miss Kelly into the room.

"I think," the nurse said, "you gentlemen will have to put off further
conversation with Miss Fulton--if you can. The doctor said she was not
to be subjected to too much excitement."

They already had risen.

"We've very much obliged to you, Miss Fulton," Bristow said in his
pseudo-pleasant way. "It may be useful to us to know about you and Mr.
Mor----"

He was interrupted by a cry from the girl. Without the slightest warning,
she had lost the last shred of her self-control. She began to beat on the
covering of her bed with clenched fists. He could see how her whole body
moved and twisted.

Greenleaf, startled by the girl's demeanour, moved further from her.
Bristow stood his ground, watching her closely.

She glared at him with the wild look that frequently comes to the
hysterical or neurotic woman's eyes. She did not seem to be suffering.
She was angry, carried away by her rage, and giving vent to it without
any attempt at restraint!

In two or three seconds she had become suggestive of an animal, her
nostrils distended, the upper lip drawn back from her teeth. Bristow,
going beyond surface indications, estimated her at her true worth: "Too
much indulged; overshadowed, perhaps, by some older member of the family;
but capable of big things, even charm. She's far from being a nonentity.
She may help me yet."

He regarded her calmly, and smiled.

"Don't mention him to me again!" she screamed. "I won't have it! I won't
have it, I tell you! I never want to see him again--never! Don't speak
the name of Henry Morley in----"

But Miss Kelly had quickly motioned them out and closed the door. Even on
the outside, however, they could hear her shrill, whining protest against
any mention of Morley.

"Now!" said Greenleaf as they went through the living room. "What do you
make of that?"

They left the house and stood on the sidewalk outside.

"Not much," Bristow replied, thinking deeply. "What with Withers throwing
a fit, and then this girl having, or shamming, hysterics, it's
disappointing. But here's a question: what has Morley done since last
evening to make her hate him--at least, to make her look frightened when
his name is mentioned to her?"

"What do you think?"

"I should say murder, or something just a little short of
murder--wouldn't you?"

Greenleaf looked his bewilderment.

"No," he object