Chapter VIII. The Girl on No. 1

By the time they had reached the hotel Cameron was glad enough to go to his bed.

"You need not tell your wife, I suppose," said the doctor.

"Tell her? Certainly!" said Cameron. "She is with me in this. I play fair with her. Don't you fear, she is up to it."

And so she was, and, though her face grew white as she listened to the tale, never for a moment did her courage falter.

"Doctor, is Allan all right? Tell me," she said, her big blue eyes holding his in a steady gaze.

"Right enough, but he must have a long sleep. You must not let him stir at five."

"Then," said Mandy, "I shall go to meet the train, Allan."

"But you don't know Moira."

"No, but I shall find her out."

"Of course," said Dr. Martin in a deprecating tone, "I know Miss Cameron, but--"

"Of course you do," cried Mandy. "Why, that is splendid! You will go and Allan need not be disturbed. She will understand. Not a word, now, Allan. We will look after this, the doctor and I, eh, Doctor?"

"Why--eh--yes--yes certainly, of course. Why not?"

"Why not, indeed?" echoed Mandy briskly. "She will understand."

And thus it was arranged. Under the influence of a powder left by Dr. Martin, Cameron, after an hour's tossing, fell into a heavy sleep.

"I am so glad you are here," said Mandy to the doctor, as he looked in upon her. "You are sure there is no injury?"

"No, nothing serious. Shock, that's all. A day's quiet will fix him up."

"I am so thankful," said Mandy, heaving a deep sigh of relief, "and I am so glad that you are here. And it is so nice that you know Moira."

"You are not going to the train?" said the doctor.

"No, no, there is no need, and I don't like to leave him. Besides you don't need me."

"N-o-o, no, not at all--certainly not," said the doctor with growing confidence. "Good-night. I shall show her to her room."

"Oh," cried Mandy, "I shall meet you when you come. Thank you so much. So glad you are here," she added with a tremulous smile.

The doctor passed down the stairs.

"By Jove, she's a brick!" he said to himself. "She has about all she can stand just now. Glad I am here, eh? Well, I guess I am too. But what about this thing? It's up to me now to do the Wild West welcome act, and I'm scared--plain scared to death. She won't know me from a goat. Let's see. I've got two hours yet to work up my ginger. I'll have a pipe to start with."

He passed into the bar, where, finding himself alone, he curled up in a big leather chair and gave himself up to his