And she had rested. How long? A glance at the clock brought her to her feet. It was fifteen minutes after three!
Near the head of the stairway, beneath a boxed catalpa tree, stood a decorative carved stone seat. Upon it sat Dr. Clarke Shayle. As, with a nod, Dolores was about to hurry past him and into Jack’s room, he caught her hand and drew her to a seat beside him.
“You can spare a moment for the human headache powder,” he said. “Tell me, how did you like it?”
“It?” She stared at him.
“The powder. But never mind. You don’t need to answer. You certainly look some better at the present moment than when you ran away from me into your room.”
“You can’t mean that—that you——”
The yellowish fleck in his eye twinkled, although his face was unusually serious as he glanced down at the watch which, oddly enough, lay face up in his palm.
“At eight minutes of three I volunteered a first-aid treatment. I coddled you mentally the way I’d like to do really. You are an easy subject, you poor, scared little chump. But it’s a hard life waiting on a stone bench. At fifteen after three I was selfish enough to give you the wake-up ring. Come, how did you like it?”
“I—I do feel refreshed. What is it about you—what is it?”
“I’ve wanted to explain that and a lot of things to you for days, but you’ll never give me an opportunity. I want to explain myself to you before someone does it for me—to tell you to look out for me. I am what you might consider a ‘dangerous’ man. Oh, it’s not inherited—it’s a gift.”