o some decision. She forced herself back from the brink of
unconsciousness to realize that he was going toward the door--not the
outer door, through which she had entered, but another. He opened this,
and Clo saw that beyond was a bedroom. Quickly he went to a table where
stood a tall glass jug filled with crushed ice and water. His back was
turned to the girl as he began pouring the jug's contents into a
tumbler, but suddenly, as if on a strong impulse, he turned. Clo did not
even quiver. Something told her that the thing she had prayed for was
about to happen.

XI

O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET

O'Reilly's first look into the sitting room was not for the girl.
Involuntarily, it seemed, he sent a lightning glance to the left, to
that side of the room farthest from the big chair where she sat. Clo's
desperate need to know what was in his head inspired her with
clairvoyance. Consciousness lit her brain once more. She was sure that
she had read his thoughts. He feared that after all she was fooling him.
He was saying in his mind: "What if she meant me to go and fetch this
water while she looks for what she wants to find?"

Now Clo was certain at last, not only of his having the papers, but that
they were in the room, somewhere on that left side, where his glance had
flashed. It was hard to keep still, without the flicker of an eyelash;
but she believed, as O'Reilly came back to her, that she had stood the
test of his stare.

He moistened his handkerchief, and gingerly dabbed the girl's forehead.
It was a relief to "come to," to be able to start, and draw a long
breath.

"There! You're better, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed. "I should like to go home, but I'm afraid----"

"Don't be. I'm going with you," he said. "By this time a taxi's waiting
for us. Do you think you can walk if I give you my arm?"

"I'll try," Clo answered, gratefully.

No pretence of weakness was needed. She felt like a rag. O'Reilly took
her by the hand, and with an arm round the slim waist raised the girl to
her feet. Once up, she swayed as if she might fall, but he held her
firmly. "Lean against me," he said, in a kind voice.

She had never before been so near to a man in her life. "You're very
good to me," she whispered. "I should like you, please, to remember that
I thank you."

"I'm sorry I said you deserved to be thrown out of the window," O'Reilly
absolved himself. "Whatever else you may be, you're a good plucked