nd the prayers of her own people."

But the doctor was not to be put off with mere evasions. He pressed his
question mercilessly, hating himself acutely, all the while.

"You saw her, as the nurse says, when she first came out of her room,
this morning?"

"Yes." Brenton's voice had lost its resonance and sounded curiously
listless, as he answered. "Yes, I saw her then, and urged her not to
go."

The doctor's eyes veiled themselves abruptly, and he turned away. The
nurse, watching, felt he was satisfied that no blunder had occurred
within the house. Brenton, though, knew differently. Watching the
doctor, he was well aware that, in the doctor's mind, there were no
more doubts as to the person who had made the fatal substitution than
as if, like Brenton's self, his keen old eyes had rested upon the
telltale drops clinging to Katharine's front breadths.

The doctor's eyes had veiled themselves; Brenton had turned away and
sunk down in a chair. An instant later, both the men had rallied to a
swift attention. Katharine, alert, smiling a little and stepping
lightly, carelessly, it seemed, was coming up the stairs.

Doctor Keltridge turned to the nurse.

"You must be very tired," he said, with a kindliness which yet held its
own note of command. "Go now and eat a good breakfast, and then lie
down. I shall be here, for the present." Then he faced back to
Katharine, who stood upon the threshold.

"You here, doctor?" she said jauntily, as she came in. "I'm sure it's
very good of you."

"Yes, Mrs. Brenton. I am here."

His accent took a little from the jauntiness of Katharine's bearing.

"Has anything happened?" she asked swiftly.

"Happened?" The doctor's voice was grim with unphrased reproach.

"How is my baby boy?" she asked again.

Her well-considered flutter of agitation angered the doctor utterly.
His reply came like a blow from a bludgeon.

"Dead."

"Doctor! My baby boy! When? How?" And Katharine, really startled now,
hurried across the floor to the corner where the frilly crib shielded
the quiet sleeper from her gaze.

Half-way across the floor, she was brought to an abrupt halt. The
doctor's hand was shut upon her arm in a clutch of iron; the doctor's
eyes were blazing down at her in a rage such as Brenton, watching, had
never before seen upon the face of human man.

"Stop!" he bade her curtly, yet in a voice too low to give the servants
below stairs any hint of the strife going on above. "Your baby