"A mere syncope, my dear sir. Perhaps--even only the result of
tight lacing, or inaction. Perhaps some sudden nerve crisis. These
are the results of the easy luxury of an enervating high-life. All
these social habits are weakening elements. Now, fortunately, your
wife has a singularly strong vital nature. You may safely dismiss
all your fears. Madame will be entirely herself in the morning."

"Can I be of any service?" demanded the genial host, secretly urged
on by a coterie of curious, womanly sympathizers in silk and muslin.

"I am the trustee of Madame Louison, in some important business
matters, and not her husband," gravely remarked the Major. "I only
came up here to confer with her upon some matters of moment." Both
the listeners bowed in silence.

"Then, my dear sir, you can be perfectly reassured," the physician
briskly concluded, tendering his card. "My professional conscience
will not allow me to make even a single future visit, as doctor,
to the charming Madame Louison. Should Madame awake in other than
her normal health and spirits, I should be professionally at fault."

Major Hawke then led the doctor aside and pressed a five-pound
note upon him. "Madame is of a wonderfully strong constitution.
An heiress of nature's choicest favors," the happy Galen floridly
said, as he took his leave.

"So she is," grimly assented Hawke.

The gossipy boniface was already spreading such meager details of
the sudden seizure as he had been able to pick up, and, the words