Charlotte inquired, though she very well knew, 'Who's calling at such an hour?'
John replied, swinging out of bed for the third time that night, 'Sidney Miller. Sheilah hasn't had a very good night.'
'Does she actually need you, do you think?'
'Oh, I guess not. She's asleep now.'
'Honestly, John, you do let people impose on you So.'
'Well, Sid sounded as if he sort of needed somebody,' John apologized.
'Sort of needed somebody! Really! Why, it's unbecoming to your position, John, running out like this at such an hour, when it isn't necessary.'
'Sorry. It's been a mean night for you, Charlotte. I'll pull the shades down, so you can sleep late.'
Sidney was watching for John. He was at the front door when John's old gray Cadillac coughed into the drive. He let him in silently, led the way into the living-room, and closed the door behind him. Then burst out:
'Something's happened. Sheilah has told me something. It explains everything. I'm afraid something dreadful has happened to Sheilah.' And he poured forth his fears, accumulated through the long watching hours by Sheilah's side, without re-
