"But there was no entry in the register, was there, which would account for old Peggy's anxiety that you should have it?" persisted Mrs. Vane, with a little hurry in her breath.
"None. Except that she had something on her mind always, I feel sure, regarding that unfortunate daughter of hers. She never behaved naturally to little Paul; and now, of course, it is doubtful if he will get the money. I must see the lawyers about it as I go through Edinburgh. If old Peggy had only lived to make a will----"
Mrs. Vane rose from her pillow and looked him full in the face, with a startled expression.
"You mean she would have had the power to leave it to him."
"Yes, apparently she would have, to judge by the will. You had better lie down again, Mrs. Vane! So--quite flat, please."
He chose out the smelling salts unerringly, as if he knew all about such things, from the bevy of silver-topped bottles on the dressing-table, and when he saw her colour returning, went back with the same certainty, apparently, of finding sal volatile or red lavender.
"Chloral!" he said, turning to her quickly as he smelt at a bottle. "You mustn't take that, Mrs. Vane. I forbid it, and I expect you to obey orders."
A touch of her own airy, charming wilfulness showed on her face as she looked at him while he stood dropping something into a glass for her to take. "I won't--not while you are here."
"Nor when I am gone, I hope. It isn't worth it--Pauline."
She gave him an odd look, then buried her face in the pillow and began to sob. Inarticulate, hysterical sobbing about Pauline--or was it Paul? Dr. Kennedy could not be sure.