"Yes, sir." He went over to the sheet, lifted the edge slowly, and
then replaced it, and tip-toed to the door. "The others are not back
yet. I'll admit them, and get them up quietly. How is Mrs. Wells?"

"Sleeping," Sperry said briefly, and Hawkins went out.

I realize now that Sperry was--I am sure he will forgive this--in
a state of nerves that night. For example, he returned only an
impatient silence to my doubt as to whether Hawkins had really only
just returned and he quite missed something downstairs which I later
proved to have an important bearing on the case. This was when we
were going out, and after Hawkins had opened the front door for us.
It had been freezing hard, and Sperry, who has a bad ankle, looked
about for a walking stick. He found one, and I saw Hawkins take a
swift step forward, and then stop, with no expression whatever in
his face.

"This will answer, Hawkins."

"Yes, sir," said Hawkins impassively.

And if I realize that Sperry was nervous that night, I also realize
that he was fighting a battle quite his own, and with its personal
problems.

"She's got to quit this sort of thing," he said savagely and apropos
of nothing, as we walked along. "It's hard on her, and besides--"

"Yes?"