Joan returned to consciousness with a sense of vague and unlocalized
pain which she thought was that old, familiar pang of grief. But
once fully awakened, as if by a sharp twinge, she became aware that
the pain was some kind of muscular throb in her shoulder. The
instant she was fully sure of this the strange feeling ceased. Then
she lay wide-eyed in the darkness, waiting and wondering.

Suddenly the slight sharp twing was repeated. It seemed to come from
outside her flesh. She shivered a little, thinking it might be a
centipede. When she reached for her shoulder her hand came in
contact with a slender stick that had been thrust through a crack
between the boards. Jim was trying to rouse her. This had been his
method on several occasions when she had fallen asleep after waiting
long for him.

Joan got up to the window, dizzy and sick with the resurging memory
of Jim's return to Kells with that gold-belt.

Jim rose out of the shadow and felt for her, clasped her close. Joan
had none of the old thrill; her hands slid loosely round his; and
every second the weight inwardly grew heavier.

"Joan! I had a time waking you," whispered Jim, and then he kissed
her. "Why, you're as cold as ice."

"Jim--I--I must have fainted," she replied.

"What for?" "I was peeping into Kells's cabin, when you--you--"