"I always carry these things about with me," she said, more truthfully than I expected. "No one can ever tell, in a profession like mine, when they may be required."
"That is quite true," I replied; "but under the present circumstances I should be glad if you would give both the morphia and the syringe to me. Thus, if your patient begs of you to administer the drug, it will be out of your power to yield to her entreaties."
She looked at me hard when I said this, and then, opening a hand-bag, she gave me a small bottle containing some of the dangerous fluid, and a little case which held the syringe.
After putting a few more questions, during which I elicited the information that Nurse Collins had been trained at Guy's Hospital, I took her myself to Miss Wilton's room.
There was no mistaking the look of relief which spread itself over the young girl's face when she saw her.
"Oh, nurse, you have come!" she exclaimed, and, tottering forward, she flung herself into the woman's arms.
I closed the door softly behind me. I felt more uneasy than I cared to own. It is true I had secured the syringe and the morphia, but the nurse might find means of supplying herself with more morphia, and, of course, Frances must have a syringe of her own.
I had administered my first dose of morphia to Miss Wilton at noon. As I expected, she sent for me to ask for another injection between four and five. This was shortly before the nurse arrived. If Nurse Collins had really no morphia in her possession, my services would be probably required between ten and eleven that night. I little guessed, however, what was really to occur.
A large party of friends were coming to dine at Holmwood that evening. The dinner was to be followed by a dance, to which all the young people of the neighbourhood were invited. I, as one of the guests staying in the house, had, of course, to be present. I held myself in readiness, however, to go to my patient whenever the summons came.
Little Rosamond had begged hard to be allowed to sit up for the dance.
"I don't want to stay with Frances now that horrid Collins has come," was her frank remark.
Miss Rosamond was sufficiently spoiled to have her way, and Jim in particular took her under his special patronage.
I was standing near one of the doorways watching these two as they threaded the giddy mazes of the waltz. I was inwardly feeling a good deal of uneasiness at not being summoned to Miss Wilton, for the hour was now long past that when she ought to require a fresh dose of her stimulant, when I was suddenly attracted by a look of astonishment on Rosamond's bright face. She was gazing past me towards another door further down the ball-room.
I turned in the direction of her glance, and saw to my amazement Frances, beautifully dressed, the flash of diamonds in her hair and round her white throat, advancing into the room.
I went up to her at once. She looked slightly, but only slightly, annoyed when she saw me.
"I'm all right now," she said, in a cheerful tone. "I have quite recovered. I told you, Dr. Halifax, that I only needed my own special quack medicine and Collins's aid to restore me."
I could scarcely reply to her. She swept past me to speak to an acquaintance. She looked brilliant, and was unquestionably the most beautiful girl in the room. Her fine dark eyes, generally so dull in expression, were now bright and sparkling. There was not the least doubt that she was under the influence of a powerful dose of the poison.
I hastily left the ball-room and went upstairs to find Nurse Collins.
She was not in Miss Wilton's sitting-room. I rang a bell, and asked the servant to send her to me.
"Do you mean the nurse from London, sir?" inquired the maid. "She isn't here. Miss Wilton ordered a carriage for her, and she went away about an hour ago."
I felt too astonished to speak for a moment.
"I was not aware of this," I said, after a pause.
I quickly returned to the ball-room. Frances was now dancing with Oliver, who looked in the highest spirits, and Rosamond ran up to my side.
"Do waltz with me, Dr. Halifax," she asked.
I took her little hand and led her into the midst of the dancers.
As we were revolving round and round, I asked her a few questions.
"Do you know, Rosamond, that your bête noir, Collins, has gone?"
"No," she replied, in a tone that did not express much surprise. "But she doesn't often stay long. I suppose she has filled up all Frances's bottles with the quack medicine."
