I was down in another instant, at the foot of the stairs, where, in a patch of faint light that fell from the door above, lay Marjory, with Ormsby bending over her insensible form.
'She's dead!' I cried in my terror, as I saw her white face.
'I tell you she's all right,' said he, impatiently; 'there's nothing to make a fuss about. She slipped coming down and cut her forehead—that's all.'
'Marjory, speak to me—don't look like that; tell me you're not much hurt!' I implored her; but she only moaned a little, and her eyes remained fast shut.
'It's no use worrying her now, you know,' said Ormsby, more gently. 'Just help me to get her round to the kitchen door, and tell somebody.'
We carried her there between us, and, amidst a scene of terrible confusion and distress, Marjory, still insensible, was carried into the library, and a man sent off in hot haste for the surgeon.
A little later Ormsby and I were sent for to the study, where Dr. Dering, whose face was white and drawn as I had never seen it before, questioned us closely as to our knowledge of the accident.
Ormsby could only say that he was out in the playground, when he saw somebody descending the steps, and heard a fall, after which he ran up and found Marjory.
'I sent her into the schoolroom to bring my paper-knife,' said the Doctor; 'if I had but gone myself—! But why should she have gone outside on a frosty night like this?'
'Oh, Dr. Dering!' I broke out, 'I'm afraid—I'm afraid she went for me!'