ow, but eager and intense. I
turned, with my finger on the patient's wrist, and looked into the face
of the most thoroughly scared woman I have ever seen. She made no
attempt now to avoid the light, but looked me squarely in the face, and
I noticed, half-unconsciously, that her eyes were brown and had a
curious strained expression.

"Yes," I answered, "he is very ill. He is in great danger."

She still stared at me fixedly for some seconds. And then a very odd
thing occurred. Suddenly she squinted--squinted horribly; not with the
familiar convergent squint which burlesque artists imitate, but with
external or divergent squint of extreme near sight or unequal vision.
The effect was quite startling. One moment both her eyes were looking
straight into mine; the next, one of them rolled round until it looked
out of the uttermost corner, leaving the other gazing steadily forward.

She was evidently conscious of the change, for she turned her head away
quickly and reddened somewhat. But it was no time for thoughts of
personal appearance.

"You can save him, doctor! You will not let him die! He must not be
allowed to die!"

She spoke with as much passion as if he had been the dearest friend that
she had in the world, which I suspected was far from being the case. But
her manifest terror had its uses.

"If anything is to be done to save him," I said, "it must be done
quickly. I will give him some medicine at once, and meanwhile you must
make some strong coffee."

"Coffee!" she exclaimed. "But we have none in the house. Will not tea
do, if I make it very strong?"

"No, it will not. I must have coffee; and I must have it quickly."

"Then I suppose I must go and get some. But it is late. The shops will
be shut. And I don't like leaving Mr. Graves."

"Can't you send the coachman?" I asked.

She shook her head impatiently. "No, that is no use. I must wait until
Mr. Weiss comes."

"That won't do," I said, sharply. "He will slip through our fingers
while you are waiting. You must go and get that coffee at once and bring
it to me as soon as it is ready. And I want a tumbler and some water."

She brought me a water-bottle and glass from the wash-stand and then,
with a groan of despair, hurried from the room.

I lost no time in applying the remedies that I had to hand. Shaking out
into the tumbler a few crystals of potassium permanganate, I filled it
up with water and approached the patient. His stupor was profound. I
s