“Rupert Stillwell?” suggested Vic.
“Huh-huh, that's his name. That's him now,” cried Sam. “In that Hudson car—see—there—quick!”
“Boy,” said Vic solemnly, “you have saved your life. Here's a dollar. Now, remember, not a word about this.”
“All right, sir,” grinned Sam delightedly, as he made off down the street.
“Now then, what?” said Vic to himself. “This thing has got past the joke stage. I must do some thinking. Shall I tell Pat or not? By Jove, by Jove, that's not the question. When that young lady gets those big eyes of hers on me the truth will flow in a limpid stream. I must make sure of my ground. Meantime I shall do the Kamerad act.”
That afternoon Annette had another visitor. Her nurse, though somewhat dubious as to the wisdom of this indulgence, could not bring herself to refuse her request that McNish should be allowed to see her.
“But you must be tired. Didn't Jack tire you?” inquired Adrien.
A soft and tender light stole into the girl's dark eyes.
“Ah, Jack. He could not tire me,” she murmured. “He makes so much of what I did. How gladly would I do it again. Jack is wonderful to me. Wonderful to me,” she repeated softly. Her lip trembled and she lay back upon her pillow and from her closed eyes two tears ran down her cheek.
“Now,” said Adrien briskly, “you are too tired. We shall wait till to-morrow.”