orrected me." This does not meet an assent.

"That was nothing. He had heard it at Sonnenberg. I think much more of
the story itself; the incident of the wheel and so on. Are you quite
sure you never repeated this German gentleman's story to Mr. Fenwick?"

"Quite sure."

"H'm...!"

"So, you see, I want you to help me to think."

"May I talk to him about it?--speak openly to him?"

"Yes; to-morrow, not to-day. I want to hear what he says to-night. He
always talks a great deal when we're alone at the end of the day. He
will do so this time. But I want you to tell me about an idea I have."

"What idea?"

"Did Sally tell you about the galvanic battery on the pier?" Dr.
Conrad stopped in his walk, and faced round towards his companion.
He shook out a low whistle--an _arpeggio_ down. "Did she tell you?"
repeated Rosalind.

"Miss Sa...."

"Come, come, doctor! Don't be ridiculous. Say Sally!" The young man's
heart gave a responsive little jump, and then said to itself, "But
perhaps I'm only a family friend!" and climbed down. However, on
either count, "Sally" was nicer than "Miss Sally."

"Sally told me about the electric entertainment at the pier-end. I'm
sorry I missed it. But if _that's_ what's done it, Fenwick must try
it again."

"_Mustn't_ try it again?"

"No--_must_ try it again. Why, do you think it bad for him to
remember?"

"I don't know what to think."

"My notion is that a man has a right to his own mind. Anyhow, one
has no right to keep him out of it."

"Oh no; besides, Gerry isn't out of it in this case. Not out of his
mind...."

"I didn't mean that way. I meant excluded from participation in
himself ... you see?"

"Oh yes, I quite understand. Now listen, doctor. I want you to do me a
kindness. Say nothing, even to Sally, till I tell you. Say _nothing_!"

"You may trust me." Rosalind feels no doubt on that point, the more so
that the little passage about Sally's name has landed her at some
haven of the doctor's confidence that neither knows the name of just
yet. He is not the first man that has felt a welcome in some trifling
word of a very special daughter's mother. But woe be to the mother who
is premature and spoils all! Poor Prosy is too far gone to be a risky
subject of experiment. But _he_ won't say anything--not he! "After
all, you know," he continues, "it may all turn out a false alarm. Or
false hope, should I say?"

No answer. And he doesn't press for one. He is in a land of pi