noticed her shallow breathing. He shook her violently, and saw that her eyes opened and closed with an uncomprehending stare. Frantically he found matches, struck one, pulled up her eyelid, and saw the dilated pupil.
His heart stopped. “My God! My God! What have I done?” he groaned.
He dived into his vest pockets, drew out two little boxes, struck another match and examined the contents. Then he sprang to his feet. For a moment he stood overcome by a speechless rage at this damnable trick that fate and his own carelessness had played him. He wondered how many men in the history of the world had gone down to obloquy for no stronger cause. But he dare not add inaction to carelessness, whatever the result to himself. There was nothing to do but to trust the two men in the town he knew he could trust.
Spreading out paper on the composing-room floor, with great difficulty he raised Valerie and carried her in. He took in her hairpins and put them beside her. He locked the back door. He hesitated about the gas, but finally left the jet burning low, in case she came to in his absence, though he had little hope of that. He went through the office without lighting it, opened the front door and looked out. He blessed the regular habits of the town. There was not a soul in sight. He locked the door behind him, and with the key in his hand began to run. It worried him dreadfully to think of Valerie lying on the floor even in the midst of the harmless machinery. There might be mice or rats.
He was thankful to find the hotel fairly quiet. What he would do if Doctor Steele was away he did not know, but the doctor was in the very first room he poked his head into, playing poker with a stranger.
“Lucky I have my case here, D. B.,” he said, when he
