Every minute of the day and night, for three long, weary weeks, that had seemed like years, Paula had prayed for deliverance from what was little better than a living death. At first, when she was brought to the asylum she thought she would go really mad. The first glimpse of the barred windows, the bolted doors and padded cells filled her with terror. She became hysterical, and for two days could not be pacified. She refused all nourishment, and, unable to sleep, passed her time pacing up and down her room. The superintendent and nurses fully believed that she was insane, and the symptoms she displayed being common in patients, no heed was paid to them or to her protests. Gradually, seeing the futility of tears and resistance, the girl grew quieter, and calmly began to look forward to the moment when the horrid nightmare would be at an end, and she would be set free. She knew that Mr. Ricaby and Tod were exhausting every legal resource to procure her liberty and that an order for her release was only a question of time. But the long, agonizing wait, the knowledge that she was the associate of, and breathed the same air as wretched, demented beings whose one hope of deliverance was a speedy death, was more than she could bear. Of Dr. Zacharie she had, fortunately, seen very little. Only once since her incarceration had the physician attempted to visit her professionally, and then she was seized with such a violent attack of hysteria that the nurse, alarmed, begged him to retire.

All this anxiety and mental distress could not have failed to affect her general health, and Mr. Ricaby was startled when he caught sight of the girl's pale, wan face, with its traces of suffering. She smiled faintly when she saw him, and, as he darted forward, extended a thin, emaciated hand.

"Oh, Mr. Ricaby, I'm so glad, so glad to see you!" she said weakly. "I didn't expect you to-day."

Shocked by her appearance, the lawyer was too much agitated at first to answer. Controlling himself with an effort, he asked in a low tone:

"How are you? Have they been kind to you?"

Paula made no answer. Looking over her shoulder in a frightened kind of way, she said in a whisper:

"Tell that woman to go away."

He turned to the attendant.

"Will you please leave us?" he said politely.

Mrs. Johnson hesitated. It was against the rules to let the patient out of her sight. Shaking her head doubtfully, she said:

"I'm supposed to—— You see, sir, I'm responsible for the young lady. But I'll go. It will be all right, I am sure. If you want me I shall be in there." Pointing to the entrance to the wards, she opened the door and quietly disappeared.

"She's a good woman," said Paula. "She's very kind and obliging. But she follows me everywhere. If I could forget my position even for a moment, the constant presence of that woman would remind me. Oh, it's so hard to bear!"

"But she's kind, you say—and obliging. That's something, isn't it?" said Mr. Ricaby encouragingly.

"Yes, it's something," replied the girl. She laughed bitterly as she went on: "They're all kind and considerate, Mr. Ricaby, but it's their very kindness and consideration that hurts me most. They look at me with such sympathy and pity. I can read their very thoughts. They seem to say: 'Poor thing, you have no mind. You can't think as we do.' And they treat me as tenderly as they would a child. They try to amuse me and comfort me. They give me everything I ask for—everything, except my liberty. I demand my liberty. It won't be long now. The case comes up the day after to-morrow, doesn't it?"

The lawyer looked away. Awkwardly he replied:

"No, Paula; it's postponed for a week."

"What!" she cried, in dismay. "Postponed—postponed! Oh!"

"If we'd been successful in getting Senator Wratchett," he explained, "Cooley never would have obtained a stay of proceedings. But Wratchett says he is not prepared."

"And until he is prepared I must stay here?" she cried, in consternation.

"The time will soon pass," he replied soothingly.

The girl walked nervously up and down the floor. Turning quickly on the lawyer, she exclaimed, with angry vehemence:

"Soon pass! Soon pass! Do you realize what it means to stay in this dreadful place another whole week? To meet only men and women who regard you with pity and curiosity—as—as hopelessly unfit to go into the outer world? Their very kindness and consideration is a mockery. Another week? Seven long days, seven endless nights? I can't sleep, I only get fitful snatches of oblivion during which my dreams are worse than the awakening. I've been here only three weeks and it seems like a lifetime—a lifetime. The companionship of that woman for another week!" Hysterically she cried: "I can't do it, Mr. Ricaby, I can't do it! You must take me away from here!"

The lawyer made no reply. Then, as if suddenly actuated by a determined resolution, he went up to the window overlooking the grounds and glanced out. Perhaps there might be a chance to get away. But when he noted the precipitous stone walls and the man on guard at the locked iron gates, he was convinced of the futility of any such attempt. It would only injure her cause. Shaking his head, he returned to where Paula stood.

"It isn't possible," he said, in an undertone. "That woman is behind the door. A man is over at the gate. No, that's not the way. If you go at all it must be through the front door, with head erect."

With a gesture of discouragement, Paula sank down on a chair.

"I can't stand it any longer," she cried, her face streaming with tears, "it's unbearable—simply unbearable! Did you ever try to count the time away? The first day I was here I determined not to think of my position. I counted the seconds. I counted one, two, three, four, five thousand—counted until I became exhausted. I thought I'd counted for hours, but I found that barely one little hour had passed—one little hour—and that the more I tried to forget my position the more intolerable it became."

Almost beside himself, not knowing what to suggest next, the lawyer strode nervously up and down the room. Each word she uttered was a stinging reproach and a knife thrust in his heart. Yet could he do more than he was doing? Stopping in front of her, he seized her burning hands and held them firmly in his own.

"Paula—Paula!" he cried appealingly, "for God's sake don't go on that way! I can't stand it. Try, try to bear up. The sun is shining somewhere behind these clouds—if we could only see it! This darkness will only last for a few days—a few hours—and then——"

"And then," she echoed with a hollow, mocking laugh. "Sometimes, when I think of the frightful ordeal I shall be compelled to go through to prove that I am entitled to my freedom, I—I feel unequal to the task— I'm—I'm afraid—afraid——"

"You'll be all right—you'll come out triumphant!"

She shook her head doubtfully.

"How can I tell that I shall be able to convince these strangers? They don't know me as—as you do. Suppose I don't make a good impression. Suppose that the answers I make to their questions are not—not what they consider intelligent. Suppose I become confused and lose control of myself as I did before—what then?"

He held out his hand deprecatingly.

"Paula!"

"What then?" she demanded plaintively.

"It's impossible!" he answered. Entreatingly he went on: "Oh, Paula! for God's sake don't let these gloomy thoughts get hold of your mind!"

"But they do get into my mind," she went on hoarsely. "How can I tell for certain that these strange men who will be called upon to decide finally—will decide in my favor? They may mean to do what is right, but do they know? It's the uncertainty that makes my position here so intolerable—the dreadful uncertainty. If I thought that when my case did come up I would walk out of court a free woman, I'd try and bear this temporary restraint—but it's the horrible uncertainty—the suspense—the anxiety that's gnawing at me—the secret dread that constant contact with these people may make me one of them——"

"Don't say that," he interrupted.

"But it's true," she insisted. "That's why I must go away from here at once!"

"Yes, but how—how?" he demanded.

"I don't know."

There was a deep silence. Neither spoke. Helpless, crushed by the law's heavy hand, with hardly a ray of hope ahead, both sat stunned by the calamity which had overtaken them. All at once their reverie was disturbed by the sound of approaching footsteps. The big door opened and Collins appeared. Addressing the lawyer, the old waiter said:

"There's a gentleman in the visitors' room—a Mr. Chase, sir. He's come up from New York specially to see you, sir. When I told him you were talking with the young lady—he—he made me promise him to bring him to see her, too. He has no permit, but I've waited on him scores of times at Del's, and he was always so liberal, that I couldn't refuse him. Shall I bring him here, sir? And would you mind taking the responsibility—if any question is raised?"

Paula rose, a flush of pleasure reddening her pale cheeks.

"Oh, please, Mr. Ricaby, I do so want to see him," she cried.

"I had better see him alone, Paula," objected the lawyer.

"But I want to see him," she insisted.

Mr. Ricaby nodded to Collins.

"Very well; tell him to come in."

The old man disappeared, and the attorney turned to his client. There was a tone of reproach in his voice as he said:

"How glad you are to see this man, Paula!"

"Yes; I—I——" she stammered.

"You don't stop to think," rejoined her companion bitterly, "that his family is the cause of your present predicament. You might say it is his fault."

"His mother's fault, perhaps, but not his," corrected Paula quickly. "You don't like him—you never liked him. Yet he is my friend—the one friend I feel I can depend upon besides yourself. Won't you try and like him for my sake?"

The lawyer shook his head. Doggedly he replied:

"If I don't like him that is my affair. I don't see why you should take it so much to heart."

"Well, don't—don't say anything to him, will you?"

"No, no, of course not. I only wish I could share your good opinion of him."

Paula was about to reply, when they heard the noise of approaching footsteps. The next instant Tod came in, beaming over with high spirits.

"Hello, people! hello!" he cried heartily.

His jocular manner and hearty greeting might lead one to think that it was a pleasure jaunt rather than a sympathy call on an inmate which had brought him to the asylum. Not understanding his gaiety, Paula and the lawyer stared at him in amazement. It was the first time that Paula had seen him since they were parted so unceremoniously at the ferry, and she thought he might show a little more concern.

"How are you, Mr. Ricaby?" he said cheerily. "Miss Paula, I never saw you looking better!" Looking around curiously, he went on enthusiastically: "Do you know this is a great little place up here? Gee, the scenery is great!—finest view of Long Island Sound I ever saw. Well, they got us at the ferry, didn't they? If the blamed old boat hadn't broken down they'd never have caught us, would they?"

"It was very good of you to come to see me," said Paula, somewhat distantly.

He stared at her in well-feigned astonishment.

"To see you?" he exclaimed. "Why, I'm up here for my own health. Mother is with me. She wants to see you. You know I'm going to spend a couple of weeks here and rest up. I've just looked the place over and I tell you it beats all your summer hotels to a standstill. No bands of music, no bridge parties for mother, no late suppers for me, no late hours, not even a golf link! Oh, it's just the place for me. I'm glad I came—I'm all run down, and I—I need——"

Suddenly he noticed Paula's pale face and traces of recent weeping. He stopped chattering and for the first time looked serious. But the girl was not deceived. She knew that his apparent carelessness was only make-believe. With a forced smile, she said:

"You're trying to cheer me up."

"Why shouldn't I?" he laughed. "Don't you deserve it?"

Mr. Ricaby was impatient to hear what news the young man had brought.

"You came to see me?" he interrupted anxiously.

"Incidentally, yes," smiled Tod.

"How did you know I was here?" demanded the lawyer.

"Missed you at your office. Listen, we'll just talk business a few minutes, Miss Marsh, and then devote ourselves to the enjoyment of the place. Gee, what air! what ozone! what trees——" Suddenly stopping, he scratched his hand vigorously. "And what mosquitoes! Now, in the first place, Ricaby, I'm your witness—you can depend on me. I can prove that Jimmy needed money—and that he was compelled to resort to desperate means to raise it."

The lawyer looked at him keenly.

"Are you aware," he said, "that it will involve your mother?"

"Your mother!" cried Paula, astonished. "Oh, no! You—can't do that. Oh, Tod, your mother!"

"She's all right," cried the young man. "She has left Jimmy——"

"Left him!" cried Mr. Ricaby.

"Yes, left him for good and all! I explained his dastardly conduct to her, and when I refused to live in the same house with him, she said: 'If you won't live with him, neither will I.' So she just left him, and if I can help it she'll never go back to him. You can count on mother and me, and I think that between us we ought to bottle up Jimmy and Mr. Cooley."

The lawyer held out his hand.

"I've done you a wrong, Mr. Chase, but I—you'll forgive me, won't you?"

"Don't speak of it," laughed Tod good-humoredly.

"You may be of great value," went on the lawyer hastily. "Of course, it depends on what kind of evidence you have. What proof have you?"

"The best of proof," replied the young man mysteriously, "but don't let us bother her with it— I'll show you my proofs later on."

Mr. Ricaby's face brightened. Perhaps they might yet be able to trap the wily Cooley, after all. Thoughtfully he said:

"If you could persuade your mother to furnish us with some evidence of his intention to defraud——"

Paula protested.

"Oh, don't ask him to do that! Betray his own mother," she exclaimed. "It seems so—so—unnatural!"

Tod laughed. Looking at the girl fondly, he said:

"Paula, for your sake I'd—I'd commit every crime on the calendar! Anything short of murder goes with me. Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. My stepfather and Bascom Cooley are the most desperate diseases I've ever encountered." Looking out of the window, he continued, with pretended enthusiasm: "Gee! but this is a lovely spot! Look at that sunlight shimmering on the water! This air is like the cocktail that exuberates but does not intoxicate! I'll be writing poetry if I stay here long."

The door leading to the wards suddenly opened and Mrs. Johnson appeared. Advancing toward Paula, she said:

"Dr. Zacharie thinks it advisable for you to rest before the others see you. Come, Miss Marsh."

She took her patient by the arm, but Paula, made bolder by the presence of friends, shook her off:

"I don't wish to go," she avowed decisively.

"Does Dr. Zacharie know we're here?" demanded Tod, turning to the lawyer.

"Yes," rejoined the other.

"You had better come, miss," said the attendant firmly.

Paula looked at Mr. Ricaby and Tod helplessly.

"You won't go away until—until—— Don't leave me here alone—will you?"

"Leave you?" echoed Tod. "Certainly not. I'm going to get mother. Why, I'm a fixture here—hotel picked out—baggage unpacked—rooms taken for a month ahead."

"A month? Why, you said two weeks!" cried the girl, delighted at the thought that she would have his company so long.

"Did I?" he grinned. "Well, you see, the place grows on me."

"Come, miss," said the attendant impatiently.

"You are sure you won't go?" said Paula, addressing Tod.

"I'm sure," he said. "If I go, you go with me."

Paula gave him a long look of gratitude, and, with a sigh of resignation, left the office in company with the head attendant. As soon as the women had disappeared Tod's gaiety of manner underwent a sudden change. Gulping down a dry sob, he broke down completely, and, throwing himself on to a chair, covered his face with his two hands.

"Oh, the damned scoundrels!" he cried, with a vehemence that astonished the lawyer, who had little suspected so much feeling in a youth apparently so flippant. "To think," went on the young man, "that they dare do such a cruel thing as this! How I wish I had them both in a twenty-four-foot ring—if I wouldn't give them what they deserved!"

Mr. Ricaby was anxious to hear what his companion had to impart to him.

"Now, tell me," he said impatiently, "what proofs have you got?"

"I have no absolute proof," replied the other. "Only a very strong suspicion."

"But I thought you said you had proofs?" cried the lawyer, disappointed.

"I said that to comfort her. I have no absolute proofs. I am just as much stumped for an idea as to what course to take as you are. But the girl can't stay any longer in this place—that is certain. I have a plan that may work out all right."

"What is it?" demanded the other.

"Just a minute," replied Tod. "I want to telephone mother to come over. She may be able to help us."

Going to the telephone, he picked up the receiver. In a tone of irritation, the lawyer said:

"Then all that talk about your baggage and room——"

"All hot air," nodded the other. "I had to say something—or I'd have broken down. What's the number of the hotel?"

"207 Tocquencke," replied the lawyer. Looking at the young man, he went on: "You're a peculiar fellow, Chase."

"Yes, I know," said the other indifferently. "Give me 207, and get Mrs. James Marsh on the 'phone. Hello—yes—will you please tell her to come over to 'Sea Rest' at once and ask for Mr. Chase? Yes, thank you."

Turning to the lawyer he went on:

"It unnerves me to see her in this place—locked in with a bunch of dips and nervous wrecks—compelled to come and go at their call. By God! it's awful, and to think I have to sit here powerless to move a finger on her behalf!" Scornfully he added: "You're a nice lawyer, or she wouldn't have stayed here twenty-four hours! Can't we dope out something—are we going to let them cook up all those schemes while we sit back and watch them?"

"I am doing everything I can," replied Mr. Ricaby calmly. "Our case comes up next week——"

"Next week!" cried Tod. "She'll be a nervous wreck by then! Can't you see how worried she is? We must get her out of this place at once—if we have to break out with a jimmy. Jimmy! I wish I had him here, I'd wring his neck!"

The lawyer looked at his companion in grave silence. Then he said quietly:

"You think a great deal of Miss Marsh, don't you?"

"Think a great deal of her?" exclaimed Tod. "Ha! ha! The truth of the matter is that I— Ricaby— I— I— I'd marry her to-morrow—if—if she'd have me!"

Mr. Ricaby turned pale. Only by a great effort was he able to control himself. Yet by what right could he interfere? Paula cared more for this man than she admitted. He felt that. Why should he selfishly stand between them? Was that worthy of one who prided himself on his altruism?

"You would marry her?" he cried hoarsely.

Not noticing his companion's agitation, unaware of the pain he was inflicting, Tod went on:

"Yes, a fine position, ain't it? The first girl I really cared for locked up in a—in a—well, we'll call it a sanitarium. In order to get out she's got to face a public trial to prove she ought not to be there for the rest of her life. How many experts have we on our side?"

"Fifteen!" replied Mr. Ricaby.

"Why don't you get fifty?" cried the young man heatedly. "You can bet that Cooley will have a raft of 'em. Don't take any chances."

"I'm not going to," replied the lawyer quickly. "I've engaged two of the most eminent counsel in the country. They will represent us at the public examination."

Tod's jaw closed with an angry click and his face grew resolute and determined. Clenching his fists, he exclaimed:

"Ricaby, we must prevent that public examination somehow or other. Can you see her facing a crowded court, packed full of curiosity seekers, answering a lot of humbug experts who are paid to prove anything you lawyers want them to prove—the slurs, the innuendos—the insinuations! You know what they said about her father. Well, they'll rake up all that stuff again. If that doesn't break her down, nothing will. We've got to save her that ordeal— Ricaby, we must."

"I'm afraid it's impossible," objected the lawyer "We must comply with the law."

The young man laughed scornfully.

"The law be d——d!" he exclaimed. "Law is hell, isn't it? It's worse than war, at least, you're not fighting in the dark all the time."

"You're right!" replied the other. "War is fought with weapons—fairly, face to face. This legal strife is combat with hypocrisy—cunning deceit and low political trickery!"

"Well," cried Tod, "we must fight them in the same way! I've got a plan—by Jove! I think it will work."

"What is it?" said the other eagerly.

"Just this," said the younger man, drawing closer. Glancing hastily around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers present, he said, in a low tone:

"For the last three weeks I've had Cooley watched. I know more about him than he imagines. If I choose to, I could ruin him. I know now where he gets his influence and what he pays for it. I have employed a detective agency. Sleuths have shadowed Cooley and looked up the record of Dr. Zacharie. There is just a fighting chance that we may be able to prove conspiracy."

The lawyer looked skeptical. Shaking his head, he replied:

"Unless you have absolute proof it will avail nothing. It would mean more endless trouble and litigation, and your charges against these men might come back like a boomerang on our own heads."

The young man grinned shrewdly.

"I have no intention of making complaint to the district attorney. But with the information in our hands we can make both Cooley and Dr. Zacharie believe that we mean business. We can frighten them into thinking that we're going to make a public exposÉ. Cooley is too deeply involved with the System to run any such chances, and I don't suppose Dr. Zacharie has any particular yearning to be put behind prison bars. I shall lead them to think that we know more than we do, and if I am able to gain Jimmy over, as I think I can, by threats or otherwise, the battle is won. We shall soon see the last of Mr. Cooley, and Miss Paula will go free to enjoy the Marsh millions."

"Hush!" said the lawyer warningly. "Some one is coming!"

The big door flung open, and Collins entered, followed by the superintendent, Jimmy Marsh, Mr. Cooley, and Professor Bodley.