'We are afraid her ladyship is ill, sir; rather seriously, sir; we have but this moment discovered it, sir; her maid is with her, sir, and the other women.'
Sir Rufus started; he paused but a single instant, looking from one of the men to the other. Their faces were very white; they had a strange, scared expression. 'What do you mean by rather seriously?—what the devil has happened?' But he had sprung to the stairs—he was half-way up before they could answer.
'You had better go up, sir, really, said the butler to Macarthy, who was planted there and had turned as white as himself. 'We are afraid she has taken something.'
'Taken something?'
'By mistake, sir, you know, sir,' quavered the footman, looking at his companion. There were tears in the footman's eyes. Macarthy felt sick.
'And there's no doctor? You don't send? You stand gaping?'
'We are going, sir—we have already gone!' cried both the men together. 'He'll come from the hospital, round the corner; he'll be here by the time you're upstairs. It was but this very moment, sir, just before you rang the bell', one of them went on. The footman who had come with Macarthy from Euston dashed out of the house and he himself followed the direction his brother-in-law had taken. The butler was with him, saying he didn't know what—that it was only while they were waiting—that it would be a stroke for Sir Rufus. He got before him, on the upper landing; he led the way to Lady Chasemore's room, the door of which was open, revealing a horrible hush and, beyond the interior, a flurried, gasping
