UNREFRESHING SLEEP.

Otago Witness, Issue 3234, 8 March 1916, Page 65

UNREFRESHING SLEEP.

The woman who feels tired out, who aches all over when she rises in the morning, who feels depressed most of her time, needs just the help that Dr Williams' Pink Pills can give her—new blood and stronger nerves. The number of disorders that are caused by thin blood is amazing, and most women are careless about the condition of their blood. Their nerves are quickly affected, and they become irritable ; they worry over trifles, and they do not obtain refreshing sleep. There 'may or may not be stomach trouble and headaches. This is the condition that calls for Dr Williams' Pink Pills, the bloodmaking and nerve-restoring tonic. Give Dr Williams' Pink Pills a trial. and the first sign of new life will soon be noticed by your increased appetite. Yen will be hungry by mealtime. As your blood becomes enriched it feeds and soothes the irritated nerves, sleep becomes sounder and refreshing, your worries diminish, and your work seems lighter. These are some of the benefits that follow the use of Dr Williams' Pink Pills. Try them for any trouble caused by thin blood, and begin to-day. Any dealer can supplv Dr WiUia.ms Pink Pills.

Ten minutes later he was driving in a taxi-cab along the Ooydon road. At Croydon be picked up the train to Folkestone. He waited there an hour, then went to Dover, and took the boat to Calais.

He was running away, hue ho had not much fear of being "followed. Dicky Brentwood had probably been put out of action for the rest of his life. And, anyway, he- would think of the woman he loved and her son before he thought of revenge. And he knew the objection Colonel Travels had to making a scandal. They were just finishing dinner at the flat —mother and son and Uncle Mark. They had spent a perfectly splendid day—even Stanhope had enjoyed it, —and now they were getting ready to start for the theatre. Once or twice Felicite had asked where Brentwood was, and each time Stanhope had found some excuse for his sudden disappearance. But he himself was beginning to get anxious. He had just rung for the lift to take them downstairs when he heard the telephone bell. Asking Felicite to wait in the cab with Dicky, he hurried back to the den.

To his relief he recognised the voice over the wire—Brentwood's. Dicky told him to come down to the Hotel Continental as soon as possible.

He guessed something was wrong. He left Felicite and her son at the theatre, telling them that he was called away on business, but that he would return as quickly as possible. He found Brentwood lying on a sofa in a private room at tho Continental. His head was bandaged, and his arm bound op in a sling. A doctor was with him. "A rotten accident! —fell down a flight ©f stairs." Brentwood was looking Stanhope straight in the face. "They tried to cart mo off to a hospital, but I wanted to Bee you first." He turned to the doctor. "Do you mind leaving us a moment?" As soon as they were alone ho told Stanhope all that had happened. "I suppose Forsyth has cut and run. He has effectually put me out of action, so I can't follow him. I'm not sure yet that -my number isn't up. 'Anyway, I shall never be any good again to man, woman, or child." He glanced significantly at the empty sleeve on the left, and the bandaged arm on his right. "Broken," he said larconically. Then his lips twisted in imitation of a smile "Don't much matter —I suppose she'd never have had me—Felicite, I mean. But Paul Forsyth has got to made good." His voice was very weak, his skin looked like parchment. He beckoned Stanhope closer. "You are the only man who knows or cares. And I know you're suffering pretty badly, too, for you've lost the best thing in. life. All the same, I want to ask you to find out where Forsyth's gone, to follow him, to bring him back, and to make him play the game. Not for my sake, and not only for Felicite's, but you'll be serving the woman you love, too. Can you do it, Stanhope?" Mark Stanhope bent down and put his arm around him. "Yes," he said quietly. "Of course I can —and will." .Brentwood gave a sigh of satisfaction. His eyes closed and his head fell back. "Then call in- the old bone-setter," ho whispered, "and let them take me off."

"He has fainted," the doctor said, when he came in. "He must have had an awful fall. Heaven knows how it happened; apparently n« one was present." He looked at Stanhope. "If you are his friend, sir, it would be better if you could arrange for a private room at the hospital ." • . "He's coming back to my flat," Stanhope interrupted. "I daresay you can send him a professional nurse for the first day or two. When he's 'out of the wood' I know a lady who will be able to look after him all right." The doctor offered no objection. And when a few hours later Dicky Brentwood regained consciousness it was to find his arm in plaster-of-paris, and seated by his side the woman he loved—Felicite.

"Hullo, what on earth's happened?" he cried, trying to sit up. "Where am I?"

''You're at home with us," she whispered. "Lie back and sleep' again. Those arc my orders. If you don't obey me there's a professional nurse in the next room, and she looks awfully severe.'' "But " Dicky closed his eyes, trying to remember. "Where's Stanhope?" Felicite laid her white, cool hand on Brentwood's forehead. "He told me to tell you that he had started on the mission you gave him, and you would probably near from him in a day or two."

Brentwood sighed, and turned his head away. "Ho shouldn't have brought me here. I'm—l'm only a useless hulk now, Felicite. I'll clear out as soon as I'm able."

He felt the cool, healing hand on his forehead trembling. "How is little Dicky?" he whispered. "Dicky's all right—he's asleep in my room. Everything's going to be all right —Big Dicky." (To be continued.)