"Savelli. Paul Savelli."

"I thought so. It was in the two books in your knapsack. A
historical Italian name."

"Yes," said Paul. "Noble. All dead."

He lay back, exhausted. Suddenly a thought smote him. He beckoned.
She approached. "My heart--is it safe?" he whispered.

"Your heart?"

"At the end of my watch-chain."

"Quite safe."

"Could I have it near me?"

"Of course."

Paul closed his eyes contentedly. With his talisman in his hand, all
would be well. For the present he need take thought of nothing. His
presence in the beautiful room being explained, there was an end of
the perplexity of his semi-delirium. Of payment for evident devoted
service there could be no question. Time enough when he grew well
and able to fare forth again, to consider the immediate future. He
was too weak to lift his head, and something inside him hurt like
the devil when he moved. Why worry about outer and unimportant
matters? The long days of pain and illness slipped gradually away.
Miss Winwood sat by his bedside and talked; but not until he was