Tenderly Olga soothed her panic. "It will be all right, dear. I can take care of you. I can keep him away."
Violet relaxed against her again, exhausted rather than reassured. "And where is Nick?" she murmured presently.
"Downstairs, darling; in the hall."
"On guard," said Violet quickly. "What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?"
"My dearest, no! Only he wouldn't leave me. You know what pals we are," urged Olga. "Besides, you like Nick."
"Oh, yes; he amuses me. He is clever, isn't he? What was that he said about—about the opening—and the shutting—of a Door?"
Spasmodically the words fell. The failing brain was making desperate efforts against the gathering dark.
"He was speaking of Death," said Olga, her voice very low.
"Yes, yes! He said he wouldn't be afraid. And I'm sure he knew. He must have seen Death very often."
"I don't know, darling."