He left behind him a patient who was stimulated with more than the caffeine. Valerie heard low sounds in the next room and hoped Father Ryan would go down early as he usually did. She tried to think back over the evening before, but everything was blank after the appearance of Dane’s face over the counter. She was very curious now to know what had happened. Then she heard Father Ryan close his door and go off along the hall. She wondered if he had heard anything in the night. But, she reflected, he would never tell.
She heard a low knock on her door. In answer to her quick reply Dane came through it in stockinged feet and closed it behind him.
Valerie had raised herself on her pillows and her abundant hair fell about her like a cascade of gold, but she saw at once that he was quite oblivious of the fact that she was in bed or that she had any hair at all. He moved forward to the bedside near the foot, and looked at her with intensely worried eyes. His face was strained and she knew he had not slept.
“Oh, Miss Carr,” he began at once in a nervous whisper, “can you believe me and forgive my damned carelessness? I gave you morphia last night by mistake. I had aspirin.” He put his hands to his pockets and pulled out the two little boxes. “But somehow in my hurry and in the bad light I got the wrong thing. You were suffering so badly. You see.” He held the boxes out to her.
Valerie spoke slowly for it was still an effort to talk. “Oh, my dear man, you don’t have to produce any evidence.”
“You believe me?”
“Good Lord! May I ask why I shouldn’t believe you? Why, you look as if you’d never been believed before!”
