'Then you know?'
'Know? Why—Tell me, do you think you can carry him to his room?'
'Me? Oh, easy! Why he doesn't weigh much of anything. Just look!'
'Then come. Quickly. Keep very quiet.'
Slowly, painstakingly, he followed her up the stairs and along the upper hall to an open door.
'Wait!' she whispered. 'I'll have to turn on the light.' He laid the limp figure on the bed.
Outside, in the still night, the horses stirred and stamped. A voice—the cabman's—cried,—
'Whoa there, you! Whoa!'
Cicely turned with a start.
'Oh, why can't he keep still!... You—you'd better go. I don't know why you're so kind. Those others would never——'