street. "Scientific things never interested me before. But he makes
them vital, living!"

"And yet," said Parker, thoughtfully, "there's something uncanny about
that man!"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Betty. "It's because he's a genius! Don't be
small, Allen!"

Parker gasped, and remained silent. He could not remember that his
wife had ever spoken to him in quite that way. They finished the
little journey home without speaking again and Parker went directly to
studio. He sat down, with drooping shoulders, and considered the mess
he had made of his book. Well, there was nothing to do but see
Cartwright to-morrow and face the music!

Dinner that night was a mournful affair. The soft footsteps of the
servant going in and out of the dining room, the ticking of the clock,
were almost the only sounds. Betty was deep in her own thoughts;
Parker was too miserable to talk. He went to bed early and lay staring
into the darkness for what seemed like an eternity of slow moving
hours.

The tall, deep voiced clock in the hall downstairs had just struck
one when suddenly Parker's room was flooded with light. He sat up,
blinking, and saw Betty standing near his bed. Her fingers twisted
against each other; her face was drawn and white.

"Allen!" she whispered. "I'm afraid!"

Instantly he was on his feet; his arms went around her and the yellow
head dropped wearily against his shoulder.

"Afraid of what?" he cried. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I don't know!" All at once her body stiffened and she pulled away
from him. Then she laughed--"What nonsense! I must have been having a
bad dream ... it's nothing. Sorry I bothered you, Allen!"

She was gone before his could stop her. Bewildered, he did not know
whether to follow. Better not, he thought. She would sleep now, and
perhaps he would. But he was worried. Betty was becoming less and less
like herself.

* * * * *

At last Parker did sleep, to awake shortly after daylight. He got a
hasty breakfast and took an early train to New York. When John
Cartwright, a shrewd and kindly man well advanced in years, arrived at
his office Allen Parker was right there waiting for him.

Cartwright had shown a real affection for the younger man, a paternal
interest. He beamed, as usual, until he sat down with the new
drawings. Slowly the smile faded from his face. He went over them
twice, three times, and then he looked up.

"My boy," he said, "did you do these?"