“Probably,” said Nick.

“That morning when he invited us to go on his yacht is the last thing I can remember clearly,” she said.  “I didn’t want to go, but—­she—­insisted.  After that, my mind is just a jumble of impressions that don’t fit into each other.  I seem to remember being on the yacht, and Major Hunt-Goring and Violet laughing together.  And then he came and told me an awful thing about her mother.  He wanted me to say I would marry him, and I wouldn’t because I hated him so.  And after that he was so furious, he went and told her too.”

Olga stopped with horror in her eyes.  The effort to remember was plainly torturing her, yet Nick made no effort to help her.

“And after that?” he said.

“Oh, after that, there seems to come a blank.  I remember her face, and how I held her in my arms and tried to comfort her.  And then—­oh, it’s just like a dreadful dream!—­I was running in the sun, running, running, running, never seeming to get anywhere.  The next thing I really remember is being at the Priory and having lunch in that awful storm, and Max coming—­do you remember?—­do you remember?  And how I kept him away from her?  Poor child, he terrified her so.”  Olga was shuddering now from head to foot.  Her eyes were wide and staring, as though fixed upon some fearful vision.

Nick did not attempt to interrupt her.  He waited, alert and silent, for the vision to come to an end.

The end was not far off.  She went on speaking rapidly, as if more to herself than to him.  She seemed indeed to have forgotten him for the moment.

“What a frightful storm it was!  That flash of lightning—­how it shone through the east window—­and the floor was all red as if—­as if—­” She broke off; her hand clenched unconsciously upon Nick’s.  “Did you see her?” she whispered.  “Or was it only a nightmare?  She—­was trying—­to—­to—­kill Max—­in the dark!”

“She was not herself,” said Nick.  His voice was low and soothing; he spoke as if he feared to awake her.

“No—­no!  She was mad—­like her mother.  Oh, Nick, how beautiful she was!”

Suddenly the tension passed.  Olga covered her face and began to cry.

His arm tightened about her; he drew her on up the shady walk.  “And that is all you remember, kiddie?” he said.

She slipped her arm round his neck as they walked.  “No, I remember two things more.”  She forced back her tears to tell him.  “I remember Max’s arm all soaked with blood.  It stained my dress too.  And I remember his saying that—­that it was a hopeless case, and that she—­Violet—­was as good as dead.  After that—­after that——­”

Nick waited.  “After that?” he said.