er: "Let him fall dead. Let him fall dead. Before he can
touch my son--let him fall dead, _dead_."

"Pfew! What eyes!" said Chesney, somewhat sobered. "You look a regular
Jael--glowering at me like that...."

Sophy's eyes blazed on. She felt them burning in her head. She said
nothing.

Suddenly his mood took another turn. He gave her a glance of would-be
shrewdness, very hateful.

"Ill tell you what's at the bottom of all this," he said sullenly. "It's
that dirty little foreigner who was coddling the brat when I came in
this afternoon. You've been discussing me with him behind my back. A
pretty----"

"_How dare you!_" It came in a slow, fierce whisper. "_How dare you!_"
she repeated.

"All the better--if I'm mistaken," he retorted, again rather sobered for
the moment.

"Oh...." Sophy drew a long breath, another. She shuddered convulsively,
then grew rigid. "Oh...." she said finally. "To think I ever thought
myself ... _in love_ with you!" Her emphasis on the words "in love" was
sick with self-contempt.

A ghastly look came over Chesney's face. It turned grey, and moisture
sprang out on his forehead. He collapsed all at once into a chair,
leaning his forehead on his hands.

"By God--I'm an ill man----" he stammered. Sophy stood an instant in
doubt. He was a great actor in his way. But that livid face was not one
that could be assumed at will. She rang for help--went over to him.

"What is it? Do you feel faint?" she asked, in a constrained voice. He
seemed unable to answer. Parkson appeared in the doorway. "Send Gaynor
at once. Mr. Chesney is very ill."

She thrust her handkerchief into the vase of roses, and drawing his
heavy head against her shoulder, moistened his brow and temples. She
felt somewhat as if she had risen from the block, to minister to the
headsman, who had inadvertently wounded himself with his own axe.

Gaynor came within ten minutes. He was a small, quiet man, a little
older than his master. He had been in his service ever since Chesney
left Cambridge, had travelled with him, knew his every idiosyncrasy.
Chesney would have no one but Gaynor with him during his mysterious
attacks. Parkson was waiting at the door to know if he could be of
assistance. "It's nothing serious, madam," the valet assured Sophy.
"I'll just get the butler to help me to assist Mr. Chesney upstairs.
He'll come round in half an hour. Pray don't worry, madam." Gaynor spoke
very prim and correct English, when he did