“Very little,” she whispered; “somehow, he—Mr. Sabin—got into the library, and the shock sent him—like this. Here is the doctor.”
Dr. Whitlett was ushered in. They all three looked down upon the Admiral, and the doctor asked a few rapid questions. There was certainly a great change in his face. A strong line or two had disappeared, the countenance was milder and younger. It was like the face of a child. Wolfenden was afraid to see the eyes open, he seemed already in imagination to picture to himself their vacant, unseeing light. Dr. Whitlett shook his head sadly.
“I am afraid,” he said gravely, “that when Lord Deringham recovers he will remember nothing! He has had a severe shock, and there is every indication that his mind has given way.”
Wolfenden drew his teeth together savagely. This, then, was the result of Mr. Sabin’s visit.
CHAPTER XXXIV
BLANCHE MERTON’S LITTLE PLOT
At about four o’clock in the afternoon, as Helène was preparing to leave the Lodge, a telegram was brought in to her from Mr. Sabin.
“I have succeeded and am now en route for London. You had better follow when convenient, but do not be later than to-morrow.”