He waited no longer, but opening the door softly, he went noiselessly down the stairs, and silently opening the door of the library, passed in.
He advanced nearer to the desk, and, with a thrill of horror, saw the revolver lying upon a chair. He leaned over to pick it up, and as he did so his eyes fell upon the colorless face of the girl lying there.
He shrunk backward with a suppressed cry, then quickly kneeled beside her and placed his hand above her heart. It was slowly trembling.
Rising hastily, he rung the bell violently.
The sound clanged through the silent house like the iteration of the cry of murder on the stilly night. It did not cease until servants and family had hurriedly entered the room, their faces blanched with fear.
"What is it?" cried Mrs. Chandler, her countenance white as Leonie's own.
"Heaven knows!" answered Chandler hastily, his brow contracted curiously. "Look there! There is some mystery about this house. I think we are about to get at the bottom of it."
He pointed, as he spoke to the prostrate body upon the floor, then lifted it himself to a couch.
"Some of you do what you can to restore her," he ordered shortly.
While the servants were obeying he took his keys from his pocket, and with a hand that had grown steady under excitement, he opened the drawer that had contained his money.