"It's 'orrible, Sir!" the latter whispered, as she glanced at the pupil
she loved most.

And it was.

By now the perspiration was pouring in streams from the girl's face,
whilst the slim body shook and shook like a young tree in a storm; her
teeth chattered like castanets, her closed eyes were sunk in purple black
orbits, the cheeks were drawn and grey, and the nostrils were dilating
like those of a far-spent horse.

"For Gawd's sake stop 'er. Sir--she's a-killing of 'erself."

The doctor shook his head, took out a brandy flask and a metal box from a
leather case beside him on the floor. He held up the ready-filled glass
syringe to the light and sent a squirt of what looked like water through
the gleaming needle.

"If the young lady shows signs of life I want you to get this brandy down
her throat _at once_, and begin to massage her heart."

"Massige! that's same as kneading dough, ain't it, Sir!"

"That's it! Miss--Miss--oh! Leonie will want the most attention, she is
only just alive. I will give her another two minutes, and if nothing has
happened by then I'll stop her, though it'll be an awful risk!"

"What's she a-doin' of, Sir?"