"Carol, what's the matter?"

She sobbed out brokenly: "It's so lovely—the night and the blueness and the stars. If only we could be part of it all . . . If only we could be like other people instead of being as we are—all queer and warped and wrong."

"But we shall be all right when she's dead!"

"Are you sure? Isn't it too late? Shan't we always be queer and different?"

"No, no, no."

"I wonder—"

"Carol, if you'd rather not—"

She pushed his comforting arm aside. "No, I'm with you—definitely I'm with you! Because of the others—especially Jinny. We must save Jinny!"

Raymond paused a moment. "Then—we'll go on with it?"

"Yes!"

"Good. I'll tell you my plan . . ."

He bent his head to hers.

2

Miss Sarah King, M.B., stood by the table in the writing-room of the Solomon Hotel in Jerusalem idly turning over the papers and magazines. A frown contracted her brows and she looked preoccupied.

The tall, middle-aged Frenchman who entered the room from the hall watched her for a moment or two before strolling up to the opposite side of the table. When their eyes met, Sarah made a little gesture of smiling recognition.

She remembered that this man had come to her help when traveling from Cairo and had carried one of her suitcases at a moment when no porter appeared to be available.

"You like Jerusalem, yes?" asked Dr. Gerard, after they had exchanged greetings.

"It's rather terrible in some ways," said Sarah, and added: "Religion is very odd!"

The Frenchman looked amused. "I know what you mean." His English was very nearly perfect. "Every imaginable sect squabbling and fighting!"

"And the awful things they've built, too!" Said Sarah.

"Yes, indeed."

Sarah sighed. "They turned me out of one place today because I had on a sleeveless dress," she said ruefully. "Apparently the Almighty doesn't like my arms in spite of having made them."

Dr. Gerard laughed. Then he said: "I was about to order some coffee. You will join me, Miss—?"

"King, my name is. Sarah King."

"And mine—permit me." He whipped out a card.

Taking it, Sarah's eyes widened in delighted awe. "Dr. Theodore Gerard? Oh! I am excited to meet you. I've read all your works, of course. Your views on schizophrenia are frightfully interesting."

"Of course?" Gerard's eyebrows rose inquisitively.

Sarah explained rather diffidently. "You see—I'm by way of being a doctor myself. Just got my M.B.."

"Ah! I see."

Dr. Gerard ordered coffee and they sat down in a corner of the lounge. The Frenchman was less interested in Sarah's medical achievements than in the black hair that rippled back from her forehead and the beautifully shaped red mouth. He was amused at the obvious awe with which she regarded him.

"You are staying here long?" he asked conversationally.

"A few days. That is all. Then I want to go to Petra."

"Aha? I, too, was thinking of going there if it does not take too long. You see, I have to be back in Paris on the 14^th."