I took her hand again; there were rings upon it, but all were set with gems. The bond of matrimony that I had placed there was absent.
For a moment I stood gazing at her, utterly confounded. But I saw that to save her life no time must be lost, therefore, rousing myself, I obtained her ladyship’s assistance to unloose my loved one’s corset, and then made a further examination.
“This is a serious matter,” I said at last. “I shall be glad if you will send a servant in a cab to Bloomsbury with a message.”
“To Bloomsbury? Why?” she asked. “Cannot you treat her yourself?”
“Not without consultation,” I responded; and taking a card from my pocket, I wrote upon it an urgent message to accompany the bearer at once.
She gave me an envelope, and, enclosing the card, I wrote the superscription, “Doctor Carl Hoefer, 63, Museum Mansions, Bloomsbury.”
Her ladyship at once sent the servant on the message, and then without delay returned to my side.
“Well, Doctor,” she asked in a low, strained voice, “what is your opinion? Will she recover?”
“I cannot say,” I responded mechanically, my eyes still fixed upon my patient’s face, watching for any change that might occur there.
At my request her ladyship brought the brandy decanter from the dining-room, and I managed, after some difficulty, to force a few drops between her cousin’s lips.