There was no sign of a servant to be seen anywhere. They had all packed up their boxes, and fled, as rats quit a sinking ship.
Hetty was alone in the house. At any rate there was the telephone. Dr. Bruce was out, they told her, but expected in shortly, when he should have the message. It was not nice to be alone in so large a house with a sick child, but Hetty had no fear. All the horrors and all the tragedies had gone with the Countess. It was quite late when Bruce arrived. He asked no questions, as Hetty let him in herself. And Hetty said nothing of the fact that she had been deserted. It would only make Gordon uneasy, and she was certain that she could manage alone.
"Of course you can, darling," Bruce said fondly. "If ever there was a born nurse you are one. I don't like the look of the child at all. She ought to be got away from here to the seaside. Fresh air and salt water is what she wants."
The child lay between waking and sleeping. Her cry was for water.
"Not too much water," said Bruce. "A little now, and some fresh cold water later on. I shall give her a few of those drops I prescribed for her last week. Four now, and four in an hour's time. But be very careful as to the dose."
Hetty produced the little phial marked "poison," and examined the label. She had administered the medicine before, usually she kept it locked up. As she poured out the drops she had a curious sensation that she was being watched. Her hand shook so that she had to try again before she was satisfied.
"Are you nervous tonight?" Bruce asked.
"Not more than usual," said Hetty. "Once I get away from this house I shall be all right, and that looks as if it won't be long."
Bruce lingered as if loth to depart. The house seemed wonderfully silent. Bruce went down the stairs presently, accompanied by Hetty.
"Good night, my darling," he said, as he kissed her fondly. "You'll be compelled to leave here tomorrow, and I only hope the child will be better. Thank goodness, Gilbert Lawrence will be only too glad to have you."