"Thank you," he said simply. "Do you think you can walk? We are just turning into Doughty Street. We've passed the policeman on his beat; he is going the other way. Can you walk upstairs by yourself?"
"I—I'll try," she said, but when he assisted her from the car she nearly fell, and he half carried, half supported her into her room.
He stood hesitating near the door.
"I shall be all right," she smiled. "How quickly you understand my thoughts!"
"Wouldn't it be well if I sent somebody to you—a nurse? Have you the key I gave you?"
"How did you get it?" she asked suddenly, and he laughed again.
"Jack o' Judgment," he mocked, "wise old Jack o' Judgment! He has everything and nothing! Suppose I send a nurse to you, a nice nurse. I could send the key to her by messenger. Would you like that?"
She looked doubtful.
"I think I would," she said with a weak smile. "I am not quite sure of myself."
He did not take off the soft felt hat which was drawn tightly over his ears, nor did he remove his mask or cloak. She was making up her mind to take a closer stock of him, when unexpectedly he backed towards the door, and with a little nod was gone. He had left her on the couch, and there she was, half dozing and half drugged when the matronly nurse from St. George's Institute arrived half an hour later.