I. A. R. Wylie

“ The assailant, whoever he was, was lying with his head in the fender, groaning feebly; and in the center of the room stood Otway, with one arm laid supportingly about Enid's shoulders. For a moment Peter de Warren stood silent on the threshold. There was a bruise on his cheek, which had already begun to discolor, and he looked curiously, pitifully inadequate. When he spoke, his voice shook.
“Is she safe? Is she hurt?” he asked.
“No, no; only frightened. Enid—Mrs. de Warren—your husband is here.” ”

“ Enid interrupted quickly.
“Ah? I am grateful. But I am afraid my work is beyond your help, Mrs. de Warren.”
She uttered a little, gasping sound, as though he had struck her, and he turned quietly to her husband.
“I think you had better get away quickly, Mr. de Warren,” he went on. “The people have a nasty temper, and when the two scoundrels are on their feet again there will be trouble. Your wife is quite well enough to move.”
Peter looked at him with an increasing, troubled interest.
“Have we not met before?” he asked.
“Possibly. My name—Otway—may be familiar to' you.” ”

“ CHAPTER V. The chairman of the committee for the Society of Helpers had risen and be geed to give out a notice.
“Doctor Otway,” he said, “has sent round a special appeal for a woman dying of consumption. She lives in a wretched neighborhood, and is afflicted with a brutal husband. Twenty pounds would be a godsend. He invites inquiry, and would be glad to answer all questions at his surgery, number ten Johns Street, E.C.”
At that moment Mrs. Peter de Warren, at whom the chairman had cast a hopeful eye, had risen from her seat and gone out. ”