“But one thing at a time, old man. Let’s get uncle quieted down first.”
“Quieted down?” cried Sir Hilton. “What do you mean? Here, Syd, my throat’s on fire. Fill that jug at the tap.”
“Won’t hurt him, will it?” whispered Syd.
“I d’know, my lad; I’d charnsh it now.”
The jug was filled at the tap over the sink and handed to Sir Hilton, who drank long and deeply, setting it down with a loud “Ha!” just as a familiar voice rang out loudly—
“Hilton! Hilton! Are you there?”
For as the pair dashed out after Sir Hilton the door through which they passed closed with a dull, jarring thud, which seemed to bring down another flower-pot in the conservatory; but this was not heard by Lady Lisle, who entered the drawing-room excitedly, closely followed by Lady Tilborough and the doctor, all looking pallid and all-nightish in the yellow light of the candles mingled with the pale grey dawn stealing in.
“Now, pray listen to me, my dear Lady Lisle,” said Lady Tilborough, in a soothing voice. “Do be reasonable.”
“I will not listen to you, madam,” cried Lady Lisle, passionately.
“Pray do now. For your own sake as well as your husband’s.”