Wendover halted for a moment.
“Hadn’t I better tell him what he’s wanted for? He may be able to bring something with him.”
“It’s all arranged. Damnation man! Will you hurry up!”
Wendover, electrified by the vehemence of the tone, hurried off without a word. When he returned he found that Vera Forrest had carried out her instructions and had come back to see if anything more could be done. Ernest had also found his way into the room and stood staring vacantly at the form of his niece lying so limply on the couch. He was evidently about to open his mouth when Sir Clinton looked up.
“Everything all right? Thanks, Miss Forrest. You got Ardsley, Wendover? Good so far, then.”
He was busy bathing the wound with warm water as he spoke.
“There’s just a chance we may be able to do something,” he explained, going on with his task. “By the merest luck, the dart hit the chain of her watch-bracelet. It got down between the links and made a nasty wound all the same; but it didn’t quite embed itself in the flesh. So there’s just the chance that the dose of poison injected may not reach the fatal amount. I can’t say. Ardsley will know better when he arrives.”
He bathed the wound again, then turned to Wendover.
“You saw no one?”
Wendover shook his head.