“Oh, no, Hartley,” she replied.
“No; you could not have suspected.”
He drew a long breath, and seemed to be making an effort to check his agony of spirit, and to be forcing himself to act firmly.
“Chegg,” he cried from the window, “go round to the front door. I’ll meet you there. Mrs Milt,” he said, closing the window, “will you be good enough to see this girl to her room? Stay with her for the present. Mary, poor North is alone,” he added; “go down.”
“And you, Hartley?”
“I’ll follow directly,” he said; and as soon as the room was cleared, he turned to the old doctor.
“You tasted that tea,” he said sharply.
“Yes; strongly flavoured with chloral,” he said.
“Chloral? How could that have got into the tea? And the girl’s fit? Not epilepsy?”
“Hysteria. Rage and disappointment,” said the old doctor. “So it seems to me. There is more beneath the surface than appears. Mr Salis, what can I do to help you?”