Unfortunate aunt! Unfortunate girl! She was recovering. He would be able to question her; but first he must get rid of this lout of a woman, and, turning abruptly, he said, "Have you got any pickled quinces in the house?"
"I dunno," she said, stolidly.
"Go and see. It's the best thing for faint spells. There is a peculiar juice in the quince that puts life into the patient."
Mrs. Stryper, without the slightest sign of doubt, went obediently to search in closets and storeroom for something that could not be found.
"Well," said Captain White, when Chelda at last sat up on the floor, and put her hand to her head, "has the world straightened itself out again?"
Without replying to him her gaze went to the open drawer.
"We'd better shut that thing's mouth," and, springing up, he restored the piece of newspaper to its place, locked the drawer, and put the key in her hand.
Chelda took it, feebly tried to reach a chair, and falling over in the attempt, was assisted by Captain White.
"You're as weak as a kitten," he observed. "You've had a great knock-over."
All confusion was rapidly clearing from Chelda's mind. She tried to wither him by a glance, but she had not yet got her bodily faculties under control, and the effort ended in a weak facial contortion.