Mrs. Jeckyl again scowled upon her, like a wild animal at bay.
“I have sent for the doctor,” said Mr. Fleetwood, returning to the room where the excited family stood hovering around the bed on which Madeline lay. “We were simpletons not to have done this before. My faith is stronger in him than in this impostor. It will be found, I think, that Madeline’s unnatural sleep is the effect of some drug, or of fright, or injury.”
A grim smile parted the lips of Mrs. Jeckyl.
“She can bring her to in a moment, if she will,” persisted Adele. “I’ve seen such things done many, many times.”
“No one asked you for information,” said Mrs. Jeckyl, turning in an excited manner toward the girl.
“This is mere trifling,” spoke out the police-officer, sternly, and he advanced to the side of Mrs. Jeckyl. “Why was she brought here?” And he looked toward Mr. Dainty.
“To remove from this child the spell she has cast upon her through some infernal art.”
“So I understood. Very well, madam, let it be done at once.”
Mrs. Jeckyl stood, in evident debate with herself, for some moments.
“If I do as you desire, what then?” She addressed Mr. Dainty.