It did not surprise her that Lady Clifford should fail to appear at déjeuner, but she was unprepared for the new development announced by Aline, the maid, who came into the dining-room at the close of the meal and somewhat portentously informed the doctor that her ladyship was "trés souffrante" and wished to see him at once.
"Souffrante, Aline?" repeated Miss Clifford. "Is it a headache?"
Aline replied that it was both backache and headache. She was a steely-faced woman of middle age with gimlet eyes and dank black hair in a ragged fringe. As she spoke she eyed the company at the table with a sort of malicious triumph.
"Oh——!" exclaimed Miss Clifford, slightly dismayed. "I don't quite like the sound of that—do you, doctor?"
Without answering her, Sartorius finished his coffee and rose.
"Moi je crois," volunteered Aline with enjoyment, "que Madame a un peu de fièvre."
"Oh, I hope not!" The old lady glanced quickly at Roger and then at
Esther, who both remained impassive.
"It may be nothing at all," Esther said soothingly, just as she had done on a former occasion. "I shouldn't get upset."
However, within a quarter of an hour, the doctor summoned Esther to Lady Clifford's bedroom. Lady Clifford certainly showed preliminary symptoms of typhoid, he informed her, so that it would be as well to administer the necessary doses of anti-toxin. Taking the thing in time like this was a good chance of warding it off.
"Naturally we won't mention this to Sir Charles," he added. "We'll let him think she's merely suffering from a cold."