fail, no power on earth will save her
hand. It may mean the arm as well."

Babbacombe listened to further explanations, sick at heart.

"When do you propose to move her?" he asked presently.

"At once. I am going now to make arrangements."

"May I go in and see her if she will admit me?"

"I don't advise it to-night. She is excited and overstrung. To-morrow,
perhaps, if all goes well. Come round to my house at two o'clock, and I
will let you know."

But Babbacombe did not see her the next day, for it was found advisable
to keep her absolutely quiet. The doctor was very reticent, but he
gathered from his manner that he entertained very grave doubts as to the
success of his treatment.

On the day following he telephoned to Babbacombe to meet him at the home
in the afternoon.

Babbacombe arrived before the time appointed, and spent half an hour in
sick suspense, awaiting the doctor's coming.

The latter entered at last, and greeted him with a serious face.

"I am going to let you see Miss Mortimer," he said. "What I feared from
the outset has taken place. The mischief was neglected too long at the
beginning. There is nothing for it but amputation of the hand. And it
must be performed without delay."

Babbacombe said something inarticulate that resolved itself with an
effort into:

"Have you told her?"

"Yes, I have." The doctor's voice was stern. "And she absolutely refuses
to consent to it. I have given her till to-morrow morning to make up her
mind. After that--" He paused a moment, and looked Babbacombe straight
in the face. "After that," he said, with emphasis, "it will be too
late."

When Babbacombe entered Cynthia's presence a few minutes later, he
walked as a man dazed. He found her lying among pillows, with the
sunlight streaming over her, transforming her brown hair into a mass of
sparkling gold. The old quick, gracious smile welcomed him as he bent
over her. There were deep shadows about her eyes, but they were
wonderfully bright. The hand she gave him was as cold as ice, despite
the flush upon her cheeks.

"You have been told?" she questioned. "Yes, I see you have. Now, don't
preach to me, Jack--dear Jack. It's too shocking to talk about. Can you
believe it? I can't. I've always been so clever with my hands. Have you
a pencil? I want you to take down a wire for me."

In her bright, imperious way, she dominated him. It was well-nigh
impossible to realise that she was dangerously ill.

He s