my lord," said the detective; "never fear."

The detective departed; but Lord Rivercourt seemed not inclined to stir.

"You will excuse me," said Lefevre; "but I must perform a very delicate
operation."

"To be sure," said the old lord; "and you want me to go. How stupid of
me! I kept waiting for my daughter to wake up; but I see that, of
course, you have to rouse her. It did not occur to me what that machine
meant. Something magneto-electric--eh? Forgive one question, Lefevre. I
can see you look anxious: is Mary's condition very serious?--most
serious? I can bear to be told the complete truth."

The doctor was touched by the old gentleman's emotion. He took his hand.
"It is serious," said he--"most serious, for this reason, that I cannot
account for her obstinate lethargy; but I think there is no immediate
danger. If necessity arises, I shall send for you again."

"To the House," said Lord Rivercourt. "I shall be sitting out a debate
on our eternal Irish question."

Lefevre was left seriously discomposed, but at once he sent for the
house-physician, summoned the Sister and the nurse, and set about his
third attempt to revive his patient. He got the bed turned north and
south. He carefully explained to the two women what was demanded of
them, and applied them to their task; but, whatever the cause, the
failure was completer than before: there was not even a tremor of muscle
in the unconscious lady, and the doctor was suffused with alarm and
humiliation. Failure!--failure!--failure! Such a concatenation had never
happened to him before!

But failure only nerves the brave and capable man to a supreme effort
for success. Still self-contained, and apparently unmoved, the doctor
gave directions for some liquid nourishment to be artificially
administered to his patient, said he would return after dinner, and went
his way. The society of friends or acquaintances was distasteful to him
then; the thought even of seeing his own familiar dining-room and his
familiar man in black, whose silent obsequiousness he felt would be a
reproach, was disagreeable. All his thought, all his attention, all his
faculties were drawn tight to this acute point--he must succeed; he must
accomplish the task he had set himself: life at that hour was worth
living only for that purpose. But how was success to be compelled?

He walked for a while about the streets, and then he went into a
restaurant and ordered a modest dinner. He broke and crumb