men with his eye--"carry Phil
downstairs? He has only fainted. Please take Sir Philip away also.
Telephone for Dr. Holmes immediately, and send for Sergeant Lumbe. And
some of you young men search the house thoroughly--at once. No, not this
room. Search the house from top to bottom, and the grounds outside. Be
quick! There is no time to be lost."

The group in the doorway melted away. The ladies, pale-faced and
weeping, went downstairs together like a flock of frightened birds, and
the young men, only too glad to obey somebody who showed nerve and
resolution at such a moment, dispersed at once to search the house.

Musard was left in the room alone, but not for long. Miss Heredith
entered from the corridor almost immediately. Tufnell accompanied her to
the door, but stopped there, with staring eyes directed towards the bed.
Miss Heredith's face was drawn, but she had recovered her self-control.
She walked quickly towards Musard, who was still bending over the bed.

"Vincent!" she cried. "In pity's name tell me what dreadful thing has
happened? They have carried Phil downstairs, and they tried to detain
me, but I broke away from them and came straight to you. Is Violet----"

Musard sprang to his feet at the first sound of her voice, and wheeled
round swiftly, as if trying to impose his body between her and the
figure on the bed.

"Go back, Alethea!" he sternly commanded. "Go back, I say! This is no
sight for you, and you can do no good."

He still sought to intercept her as she approached, but she gently put
aside his detaining hand, and, walking to the bedside, looked down.
Then, at that sight, her fingers sought for his with an impulsive
feminine movement, and held them tight.

"Do not be afraid for me," she whispered. "See! I am calm--I may be able
to help. Is she--dead?"

"Dying," said Musard sadly.

"Is it...?" her voice dropped to nothingness, but her frightened eyes,
travelling fearfully into the shadowy corners of the big bedroom,
completed the unspoken sentence.

Musard understood her, and bowed his head silently. Then, turning his
face to the door, he beckoned Tufnell to approach. The old servant
advanced tremblingly into the room, vainly endeavouring to compose his
horror-stricken face into a semblance of the impassive mask of the
well-trained English servant.

"Go downstairs and get me some hot water," said Musard quietly. "Look
sharp--and bring it yourself. I do not want any maidservants here to