With his words came the sound of the dinner-horn from the quarters. He turned. "Goin' home," he said, wearily, trudging out of the room; while the girl, wondering who had fed him, proceeded to restore order in her immaculate little domain. When she had finished the doctor reappeared.
"Madam Trevor despatched me," he explained. "Dinner is ready. You're tired, Debby. Come in."
"Yes, sir, at once, when this sleeve is down." She pulled at the short elbow-sleeve which she had pushed to the shoulder to be rid of its ruffles.
"How's the cat?" asked Carroll, walking over to its cage.
The creature lay upon the bed of grass blinking nonchalantly, after a luncheon of milk.
"Perfectly well, eh? Note, Deborah, that the action of the atropine is already retarded half an hour beyond its time. Most interesting, on my word!"
"When do you think it will begin?"
"That is difficult to say. By two or three o'clock at the outside. Then death will probably be rapid. Ready now? Madam is a little impatient, but she'll not show it before de Mailly. There—the horn sounds at last."
Dinner was gone through with tediously, and at three o'clock the entire family, with the guests, sat upon the portico, drowsy with heat and the effort of talking. The doctor, perceiving Deborah's growing impatience, was about to dare Madam Trevor's high displeasure by carrying her off to the still-room to watch their cat, when suddenly around the corner of the east wing dashed a negro, hysterical with fear.
"Blessed Ma'y be praised! Docto' Ca'l, come quick! Sambo's dyin'! Gib him somf'n fo' he go off, fo' Christ's sake!"