“He’ll be here by seven o’clock,” said the young man, on returning to the house.

“Will you let Doctor Bird know?”

“Yes, as soon as the specialist gets here.  I want to be sure of my new man first.”

It was six o’clock when Margaret roused up once more.  Raymond was dozing in an armchair, the nurse having retired to get a short sleep.  The young man was instantly at the sufferer’s side.

All the color had left Margaret’s face and she was deathly pale.  Her eyes were as bright as stars and had a look in them that Raymond had never before seen.

“Are you better, Margaret?” he asked softly.

“I—­I don’t know,” she answered slowly.  “I—­I feel very strange all over me.”

“Perhaps you had better go to sleep again.”

“No, I don’t want to sleep any more, Raymond.  I want to know something.”

“What is it, dear?”

“Will they make me go to the funerals?” Her face began to show signs of worriment.

“You’ll not have to go if you don’t wish to,” he answered, and gave a slight shiver in spite of himself, for the question was such an unexpected one.

“I can’t go—­I can’t look at them!  And then the crowd would stare so!  Oh, Raymond, the crowd is the worst of all!  Hundreds of eyes boring one through and through!  I can’t stand that!”

“You’ll not have to stand that, Margaret.  But go to sleep, do!  It will do you a world of good,” and he smoothed down her hair fondly.

“No, I’ve slept enough—­I want to talk.  Oh, I am not afraid to talk now,” she added, sitting up.  “I thought it all out while I was sleeping.  Isn’t it funny that one can think a thing out in one’s sleep?  And it’s so very clear now—­as clear as crystal—­and it was so dark and muddled before.  Will they give me a trial?”

He started in spite of himself.  “Please don’t think of that now, Margaret, I beg of you.  Lie down and try to sleep.  I have sent for another doctor, a specialist.  He will be here soon.”

“A specialist?  How can he help me?  You hired that Mr. Adam Adams but he has deserted me.  But then—­but then—­he must have learned the truth!” She gave a sob and buried her face in her hands.  “Yes, he must have learned the truth!”

“Margaret, do keep quiet, please!” he pleaded.  “You need rest, you must have rest.”

“No, I want to talk, to tell you something, Raymond.  I—­I want you to go away.”

“Away?  Oh, Margaret!”

“Yes, away—­you mustn’t come near me any more.  You are innocent and it isn’t right that you should suffer with me.  You must go away and forget me.”

“I’ll never do that.  You mustn’t even dream of such a thing.  We are going to get you well, and we are going to prove your innocence to the world.”

“My innocence?  Oh, Raymond, don’t speak so—­it cuts me like a knife!”

“But I mean it,” he said firmly.