The packet, she was sure of it, lay under his pillow.

How was she to find it, how remove it without rousing him?
A touch might awaken him.

And yet, if she would not return empty- handed, if she would not go back to the harrowing thoughts which had tortured her through the long hours of the day, it must be done, and done now.
She knew this, yet she hung irresolute a while, blenching before the manual act, listening to the persistent rush and downpour of the rain.
Then a second time she drew courage from the storm.

How timely had it broken.

How signally had it aided her! How slight had been her chance without it! And so at last, resolutely but with a deft touch, she slid her fingers between the pillow and the bed, slightly pressing down the latter with her other hand.