"Lamont."
She would not give herself any worry until she stood face to face with Victor Lamont; then some sort of an excuse to put him off would be sure to come to her.
There was another tap at the door. It was Andrew again, standing on the threshold, shaking like an aspen leaf.
"Pardon me, my lady; Miss Margaret begs me to urge you to make all possible haste."
"I am coming now," she answered; and, looking into her face, Andrew marveled at the indifferent expression on it, and at the harshness of her voice.
She followed him without another word. A frightened cry broke from her lips as she hastily crossed the room, and bent over the couch on which her husband lay.
He was marble white, and looked so strange, she thought he was certainly dying.
"We have sent for all the doctors about here. They are expected every moment," said Miss Margaret, touching her sister-in-law on the arm. "I thought that in a consultation they would find some way to save him if it lay in human power."
Sally looked up in affright into the calm white face beside her. She tried to speak, but no sound fell from her cold, parched lips.
When the great doctors came, they would find that Jay Gardiner had not taken the mild sleeping draught which poor Andrew believed he had administered to him by mistake; but, instead, a most powerful drug, an overdose of which meant death. Yes, they would find it out, and then—— She dared not think what would happen then.