something of eagerness.

Surely the room is growing very close; a window opened would be a good
thing he believes, and yet somehow lacks the energy to open it, turns
his head, and sees the professor lying back in his chair _fast asleep_.

This gives him a faint shock, but his nerves are deadened; nothing would
surprise him very much now, unless an earthquake occurred.

"Rest your head, Doctor Craig; the back of the chair is very
comfortable," he hears a soft voice say.

Warm breath fans his face. The Mother Superior has thrown aside that
ugly bonnet; it is a young, face, a fair face, surrounded by golden
curls, that looks down upon him, as with a stage laugh the woman rests
one hand on the head of the drugged medical student from Chicago, to
exclaim:

"At last! he belongs to Pauline Potter!"




CHAPTER VII.

THE BEAUTIFUL TIGRESS.


John Craig dreams. He fancies himself bathing with demon apes in the
wilds of Africa, having read an explorer's account of such a scene very