"I warned her that if she mixed up in any such fight as this she
might expect almost anything," remarked Mr. Sutphen nervously, as
he met us in the reception room. "She's all right, now, I guess,
but if it hadn't been for the prompt work of the ambulance surgeon
I sent for, Dr. Coleman says she would have died in fifteen
minutes."

"How did it happen?" asked Craig.

"Why, she usually drinks a glass of vichy and milk before
retiring," replied Mr. Sutphen. "We don't know yet whether it was
the vichy or the milk that was poisoned, but Dr. Coleman thinks it
was chloral in one or the other, and so did the ambulance surgeon.
I tell you I was scared. I tried to get Coleman, but he was out on
a case, and I happened to think of the hospitals as probably the
quickest. Dr. Coleman came in just as the young surgeon was
bringing her around. He--oh, here he is now."

The famous doctor was just coming downstairs. He saw us, but, I
suppose, inasmuch as we did not belong to the Sutphen and Coleman
set, ignored us. "Mrs. Sutphen will be all right now," he said
reassuringly as he drew on his gloves. "The nurse has arrived, and
I have given her instructions what to do. And, by the way, my dear
Sutphen, I should advise you to deal firmly with her in that
matter about which her name is appearing in the papers. Women
nowadays don't seem to realize the dangers they run in mixing in
in all these reforms. I have ordered an analysis of both the milk
and vichy, but that will do little good unless we can find out who
poisoned it. And there are so many chances for things like that,