job, though. Here, let one of the maids go down and wake Baily
and tell him to go for Dr. Wilkins at once. Now then, we'll have
a try at the door. Half a moment, though, isn't there a door
into Miss Cynthia's rooms?"

"Yes, sir, but that's always bolted. It's never been undone."

"Well, we might just see."

He ran rapidly down the corridor to Cynthia's room. Mary
Cavendish was there, shaking the girl--who must have been an
unusually sound sleeper--and trying to wake her.

In a moment or two he was back.

"No good. That's bolted too. We must break in the door. I
think this one is a shade less solid than the one in the
passage."

We strained and heaved together. The framework of the door was
solid, and for a long time it resisted our efforts, but at last
we felt it give beneath our weight, and finally, with a
resounding crash, it was burst open.

We stumbled in together, Lawrence still holding his candle. Mrs.
Inglethorp was lying on the bed, her whole form agitated by
violent convulsions, in one of which she must have overturned the
table beside her. As we entered, however, her limbs relaxed, and
she fell back upon the pillows.