CHAPTER XI
“OUT AT SEA”
Such confusion as existed in Fay’s flat that night Claudia had never conceived possibly. Life in Circe’s household had been somewhat erratic occasionally, but there had been a sort of order in the disorder, and a certain peaceful current had always flowed over internal convulsions. But in Fay’s home everything in the way of discipline and order—if there ever were any—fell to pieces when she was carried home unconscious. The two domestics wailed and sobbed—Polly at first went into hysterics, and had to have cold water thrown over her—the telephone bell went incessantly, and almost before Fay had been put to bed by Claudia, newspaper reporters filled the hall with insistent inquiries.
Claudia, though she kept her head pretty well and controlled the panic in her heart, had always been accustomed to have competent underlings to do things for her, and she did not know what ought to be done in such a crisis, what specialist should be fetched, and where to obtain a nurse at a minute’s notice.
It was Colin Paton who came to the rescue in answer to her telephone inquiries, and reduced order out of chaos.
Directly she saw him walk into the hall Claudia felt a sense of instant relief. In a few minutes the reporters had all gone, the telephone-bell rang no more, and the specialist and nurse were on their way. No one seemed surprised that he should take command, the servants obeyed him without a query. He seemed to have an almost mesmeric calming effect on everyone.
“Where’s your brother?” he asked, as soon as he had a moment to spare for essentials.
“He’s shut himself in the dining-room.” She told him of his attitude.