nge--a little warmth, a little color, but no more
than might have been created by a fancy.

He ran for water to the nearest tap. In returning to the library his
foot struck something on the floor. It was the metal ash-tray which had
helped to keep the covering in place on one of the bookcases, and into
which Claude had thrown a match. The picture of a few minutes earlier
reformed itself--Claude standing just there, with the ash-tray under his
hand--the rapid motion of the arm--the paralyzing pain--the dazzling
light--and then the blow with which he must have hurled himself on
Claude, striking him to the floor. There was no time to coordinate these
memories now or to attend to the wound in his own forehead. The
explanation came of its own accord as he touched the ash-tray with his
foot while dashing back to Claude's side.

The change continued. There were positive signs of life. The mouth had
closed; there was the faintest possible quiver of the lids. When he
threw a little water into Claude's face there was a twitching of the
muscles and a slight protesting movement of the hand.

"Thank God!"

He couldn't note the involuntary expression of his gratitude, which had
nevertheless been audible. Claude had need of air. Taking him in his
arms, he lifted him like a baby and staggered to his feet. The body hung
loosely over his shoulder as he crossed the room and laid it on the
sofa. The broken window served its purpose now, for a little air was
coming in by it through the spot where the wooden shutter had given way.
Thor succeeded in forcing the shutter altogether, letting the light
summer breeze play into the marble face.

If he only had a little brandy! He summed up hurriedly the possibilities
in the house, coming to the conclusion that nothing of the sort would
have been left within reach. Even the telephone had been disconnected
for the summer. It would be, however, an easy thing to run to his
office. It would be easier still to run to his house, which was nearer.
Claude was breathing freely now. He could be safely left for the few
minutes which was all he needed to be away. With a simple restorative
the boy would soon be on his feet again.

He pushed the sofa closer to the open window, kneeling once more beside
it. Yes, the danger was past. "Thank God! Thank God!" The words were
audible again. It was deliverance. It was salvation. There was a
positive tinge of color in the cheeks; the eyes opened wearily and
closed