“Doctor, is Allan all right? Tell me,” she said, her big blue eyes holding his in a steady gaze.
“Right enough, but he must have a long sleep. You must not let him stir at five.”
“Then,” said Mandy, “I shall go to meet the train, Allan.”
“But you don't know Moira.”
“No, but I shall find her out.”
“Of course,” said Dr. Martin in a deprecating tone, “I know Miss Cameron, but—”
“Of course you do,” cried Mandy. “Why, that is splendid! You will go and Allan need not be disturbed. She will understand. Not a word, now, Allan. We will look after this, the doctor and I, eh, Doctor?”
“Why—eh—yes—yes certainly, of course. Why not?”
“Why not, indeed?” echoed Mandy briskly. “She will understand.”
And thus it was arranged. Under the influence of a powder left by Dr. Martin, Cameron, after an hour's tossing, fell into a heavy sleep.