“Wait,” Florence broke in. “Let me tell you——”
But just then Meg held up a warning finger. Loud and clear there rang out over the snow the midnight chimes.
“Midnight,” whispered Florence, reaching out a hand for the bewitching bag.
CHAPTER XXIV
THREE QUESTIONS
“He’s coming round all right.” It was the house doctor of the hotel who spoke. Lucile was still bending over Patrick O’Hara. “He’s regaining consciousness. It’s only a scalp wound. A narrow squeak. An inch to the right, and it would have got him. He’d better go to the hospital for a little extra petting and patching, but he’s in no danger—not the least. And as for your friend Laurie—he’s got a bump on his head that’ll do to hang his hat on for a day or two. But outside of perhaps a bit of a headache, he’s O. K. Your friends are riding under a lucky star, I’d say.”
“A lucky star,” thought Lucile. Again she was free. Had the Lady of the Spirit of Christmas vanished? No. For once fortune was with her. As if fascinated by the scene, the lady still stood there, looking down at Patrick O’Hara.
Twenty seconds later this lady felt a tug at her arm as a girl in a low but excited whisper said: “You are the Spirit of Christmas.”
“What?” the lady stared at her for a second, then a smile lighted her face. “Oh yes, why to be sure! So I am. In the excitement of the moment I had quite forgotten. Surely I am. So it is you who win? I am glad, so very, very glad! I do believe you recognized me five minutes ago, and that you’ve been working over that brave young policeman ever since, when I might easily have slipped away. What wonderful unselfishness! Here is the gold!”
Lucile felt a hard lump of something pressed into her hand and without looking down knew that it was ten double eagles. A warm glow crept over her.
“I did see you,” she said, after murmuring her thanks, “but you see Patrick O’Hara was wounded trying to rescue a friend of mine. So how could I desert him for gold?”