broad gallery, lighted by large and
finely-designed windows; and paused outside a door, turning to him with
an expression of appeal--he could call it nothing else--in her small but
intensely bright eyes.

"You'll be very gentle with the poor lady, sir? You won't--won't fluster
her?" She broke off suddenly, appeared as though about to say something
more, then closed her lips as though she had thought better of the
impulse, and opening the door invited Anstice to enter.

Somehow her last words had given Anstice a queer, but possibly
justifiable, suspicion that he was about to encounter a _malade
imaginaire_; and just for a second he felt a spasm of irritation at the
stress which had been laid on the urgent need for haste.

All such thoughts fled, however, as his eyes fell on the face of the
patient he had come to see; for here was no neurotic invalid, no
hysterical sufferer who craved sympathy for quite imaginary woes.

On the bed drawn up in front of one of the big casement windows lay a
young woman with closed eyes; and as he approached her side Anstice saw
that it was not sleep but unconsciousness which claimed her at that
moment.

"How long has she been like this?" He spoke sharply, one hand on the
slender wrist.

"It's two hours since she was seized, sir." The woman's voice shook. "No
sooner was my mistress in the house--she came home only to-day--than she
fainted clean away. We brought her round, the maids and me, and she was
better for a bit ... then up she would get to look after Miss Cherry,
and off she went again. It's nearly half an hour ago ... and we got so
anxious that Hagyard telephoned for you ... we thought it was the right
thing to do."

"Quite the right thing." He was too intent on his patient to pay much
attention to the woman's speech; but she was quite content to stand
silent as he tried one means of restoration after another; and when,
finally, his efforts were successful, both Anstice and the housekeeper
breathed more freely.

"Your mistress ... her name, by the way...."

"Mrs. Carstairs, sir." She spoke with a tinge of reluctance, and even in
the stress of the moment Anstice wondered why.

"Oh. Well, Mrs. Carstairs is coming round now, she will be herself in a
moment or two. By the way, just go and fill a hot-water bottle, will
you? It is chilly to-night, and Mrs. Carstairs will probably feel cold."

With a last look at her mistress the woman turned to obey; and Anstice
moved back t