He reached up and turned on the electric bulb that hung above his
head; then he drew his feet up under him after the fashion of a Turk
and waited, calmly.

The padded steps swiftly approached his door; a sharp knock sounded on
the panels.

"Well?" demanded the young man.

"There is an urgent call, sir," came the voice of Stumph--"on the
telephone. It's the lady who called yesterday--Miss Vale."

Ashton-Kirk slipped from the bed; a step brought him to the door,
which he threw open.

"Very well, Stumph," said he, quietly. "You may go back to bed."

The grave-faced German went stolidly down the hall; the young man
pulled on a pair of felt slippers; in the library he put the detached
receiver to his ear and spoke evenly:

"Well, Miss Vale?"

There was a small, gasping exclamation from the wire, a sort of
breath-catching flutter of sound such as a person might utter who had
been running hard. Then Edyth Vale, her voice shaking and filled with
fear, said:

"Oh! Is that you! I'm glad--glad!"