He made a weird figure in his night-attire, and his red hair looked as if it had been brushed straight on end.
He looked at neither Olga nor Nick, merely for a single instant at the shivering, sobbing girl on the floor, ere he set down his lamp with decision and turned to the washing-stand.
Olga stood and watched him as one fascinated.

He was quite deliberate in all he did.

With the utmost calmness he took up a tumbler and poured out some cold water.
Then very quietly he went to Violet, bent over her, gathered the dark hair back upon her shoulders.
She started at his touch, started and cried out in wild alarm, raising her head.

And Max, with a set intention which seemed to Olga scarcely short of brutal, dashed a spray of water full into her deathly face.
She flinched away from him with another cry, gasping for breath and staring up at him as one in nightmare terror.
"You!" she uttered voicelessly.

"You!" He held what was left of the water to her lips.