I must have shrieked in my befogged agony, and in shouting I again opened my eyes.
An eager face peered into mine; it was that of a woman in a white linen head-dress—a hospital nurse evidently. She uttered some words that I did not comprehend. I tried to grasp them, but my hearing was so dull that I only heard high-pitched sounds.
No wonder! After a few moments of blank bewilderment I realized that from head to foot I was swathed in oil-soaked cotton wool. There were small openings for my eyes and another small aperture lower which enabled me to breathe.
Now memory surged back upon me in full flood and again the horror of those dreadful moments at Heathermoor Gardens fell upon me.
I recollected everything in detail. But I was alive—alive! after passing through the valley of the shadow of death, through the flames that had licked my face!
But where was Thelma?
I tried to ask. But the calm-faced nurse only shook her head. Was it that she could not understand my muffled words; or was it that Thelma was dead?
Once more I implored her to explain, but she again shook her head, placing her fore-finger upon her lips to enjoin silence.
Then she put some medicine to my lips, and speaking soothingly, compelled me to swallow it.
I lay there stretched upon the bed, my wondering eyes seeing only the whitewashed ceiling of the narrow room. The atmosphere seemed heavily laden with some disinfectant and I noticed, with idle curiosity, how very closely the nurse watched over me.