As she watched his retreating figure, another passed her; a man who, meeting her eye, lifted his hat and passed out.
"He again!" whispered the girl to herself; "how very strange."
Alone in her room, the face of this man looked at her again, and sitting down, she said, wearily: "Who is he? what does he mean? His name—I'll look at the card."
Taking it from her pocket, she read aloud: Clarence Vaughan, M. D., No. 430 B—— street.
"Clarence Vaughan, M. D.," she repeated. "What did he mean? I must tell Lucian to-morrow; to-night I am too weary to think. Search for me, John Arthur; find me if you can! To-morrow—what will it bring, I wonder?"
Weary one, rest, for never again will you sleep so innocently, so free from care as now. Sleep well, nor dream!
She slept. Of the three who had been brought into contact thus strangely, Madeline slept most soundly and dreamed the brighter dreams.
It was the last ray of her sunlight; when the day dawned, her night began.