Then he heard her cry:  “Have you forgotten me, like Bart?  Like, Bart, have you forgotten me, Dan?”

His hand fell to his side and he glided back from her; but now Byrne could see that the eyes of Barry were looking past the girl, as though he stared through the solid wood of the door and found his prey beyond it.  The stranger slipped towards the door by which he had entered, with the great dog slinking at his heels.  Kate Cumberland leaned heavily against the wall, her arm thrown across her face, but there was no consciousness of her in the face of Barry.  Yet at the very door he paused and straightened; Byrne saw that he was staring towards Joe Cumberland; and the old man reached a bony hand out.

“Oh, lad,” he said softly, “I been waitin’ for you years an’ years, seems like!”

Barry crossed the room as noiselessly, as swiftly, as a flying shadow.

“Sit down!” he commanded, and Byrne caught a faint ring in the voice, like the shiver of metal striking steel.

Joe Cumberland obeyed without a word, and then lay back at full length upon the couch—­a palsy had seized on him, and the hand which rested on the shoulder of Dan Barry was shaking.  By the couch came the tall dog, and crouched, staring up in the master’s face; then the younger man turned his face towards Byrne and the girl.  Those thin-cut nostrils expanded, the lips compressed, and Byrne dared not look into the flare of the eyes.

“Who done this?” asked Barry, and still the shiver of cold metal rang in his voice.  “Who’s done this?”

“Steady, lad,” said Joe Cumberland faintly.  “They ain’t no call for fightin’.  Steady, Dan, boy.  An’ don’t leave me!”

Byrne caught a signal from Kate and followed her obediently from the room.

“Let them be alone,” she said.

“Impossible!” protested the doctor.  “Your father is lapsed into a most dangerous condition.  The physical inertia which has held him for so long is now broken and I look for a dangerous mental and nervous collapse to accompany it.  A sedative is now imperative!”

He laid his hand on the knob of the door to return, but the girl blocked his way.

“Don’t go in,” she commanded feebly.  “I can’t explain to you.  All I can say is that Dad was the one who found Dan Barry and there’s something between them that none of us understand.  But I know that he can help Dad.  I know Dad is in no danger while Dan is with him.”

“A pleasant superstition,” nodded the doctor, “but medicine, my dear Miss Cumberland, does not take account of such things.”

“Doctor Byrne,” she said, rallying a failing strength for the argument, “I insist.  Don’t ask me to explain.”

“In that case,” he answered coldly, “I cannot assume responsibility for what may happen.”

She made a gesture of surrender, weakly.

“Look back in on them now,” she said.  “If you don’t find father quiet, you may go in to him.”