Balmayne gave a shudder. Even he recoiled.
"I have never had that on my conscience," he whispered. "And if we do----"
"Kill him," urged the Countess. "Kneel down and pin that wrap over his face. He is an old man, and the drug has affected his heart. He will go off quietly in his sleep. Then you can throw him down the well in the courtyard of the Corner House."
"Can I help you?" cried Hetty, with a voice so steady that it astonished herself. "I had a dreadful headache, so I thought I would steal down into the garden. Have you killed a burglar or something of that kind?"
Leona Lalage was the first to recover herself.
"Something of that kind," she said. "My friend Mr. Balmayne was bringing my motor back when he found this poor fellow unconscious in the lane. Mr. Balmayne called out to me for assistance and I fortunately heard."
Hetty nodded. Truly the woman was magnificent.
"Had you not best get him into the house?" Hetty suggested. "It is not cold, but any one who is ill, to lie on the damp grass----"
The Countess touched Balmayne. She had turned her face away, fearful lest the expression of it should be seen.
"Convey him into the house," the Countess ordered.