Salis ran out into the hall, followed by the doctor, to meet Mary and the housekeeper from the other side.
“North?” gasped Salis; he could say no more.
“Sleeping peacefully,” said the housekeeper; “what is the matter?” For Mary could not speak.
“Leo must be ill,” said Salis, rushing up the stairs to his sister’s room.
“Leo! Leo!” he cried, rattling the door-handle.
For answer there was a moaning, almost inhuman, sound.
“Can you open the door?” said the old doctor, who had followed him. “It must be a fit.”
“Stand back,” cried Salis; and going to the other side of the broad landing, he rushed forward, literally hurling himself at the door, which flew open with a crash.
The light carried by Mary streamed into the room, and lit up the figure grovelling upon the carpet.
In an instant Salis was down upon one knee, and had raised her upon his arm.