of the bed.
Somehow his presence braced her. She looked again upon Guy in his
extremity.

He was propped against Kieff's shoulder, his face quite livid, his
eyes roaming wildly round the room, till suddenly they found and
rested upon her own. All her life Sylvia was to remember the
appeal those eyes held for her. It was as if his soul were crying
aloud to her for freedom.

She came to the foot of the bed. The anguish had entered into her
also, and it was more than she could bear.

She turned from Burke to Kieff. "Oh, do anything--anything--to
help him!" she implored him. "Don't let him suffer--like this!"

Kieff's hand went to his pocket. "There is only one thing," he
said.

Burke, his arm behind Guy's convulsed body, made an abrupt gesture
with his free hand. "Wait! He'll come through it. He did before."

And still those tortured eyes besought Sylvia, urged her, entreated
her.

She left the foot of the bed, and went to Kieff. Her lips felt
stiff and numb, but she forced them to speak.

"If you have anything that will help him, give it to him now!
Don't wait! Don't wait!"

Kieff the impassive, nodded briefly, and took his hand from his
pocket.

"Wait! He is better," Burke said.

But, "Don't wait! Don't wait!" whispered Sylvia. "Don't let him
die--like this!"

Kieff held out to her a small leather case. "Open it!" he said.

She obeyed him though her hands were trembling. She took out the
needle and syringe it contained.

Burke said no more. Perhaps he realized that the cause was already
lost. And so he looked on in utter silence while Sylvia and Kieff
between them administered the only thing that could ease the awful
suffering that seemed greater than flesh and blood could bear.

It took effect with marvellous quickness--that remedy of Kieff's.
It was, to Sylvia's imagination, like the casting forth of a demon.
Guy's burning eyes ceased to implore her. He strained no longer in
the cruel grip. His whole frame relaxed, and he even smiled at her
as they laid him back against the pillows.

"That's better," he said.

"Thank God!" Sylvia whispered.

His eyes were drooping heavily. He tried to keep them open. "Hold
my hand!" he murmured to her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, and took it between her own.

His finger pressed hers. "That's good, darling. Now I'm happy.
Wish we--could go on like this--always. Don't you?"

"No," she whispered back. "I want you well again."