could see by the expression on his face that he himself had
little hope.

Finally he abandoned his task, shaking his head gravely. At that
moment, we heard footsteps outside, and Dr. Wilkins, Mrs.
Inglethorp's own doctor, a portly, fussy little man, came
bustling in.

In a few words Dr. Bauerstein explained how he had happened to be
passing the lodge gates as the car came out, and had run up to
the house as fast as he could, whilst the car went on to fetch
Dr. Wilkins. With a faint gesture of the hand, he indicated the
figure on the bed.

"Ve--ry sad. Ve--ry sad," murmured Dr. Wilkins. "Poor dear
lady. Always did far too much--far too much--against my advice.
I warned her. Her heart was far from strong. 'Take it easy,' I
said to her, 'Take--it--easy'. But no--her zeal for good works
was too great. Nature rebelled. Na--ture--re--belled."

Dr. Bauerstein, I noticed, was watching the local doctor
narrowly. He still kept his eyes fixed on him as he spoke.

"The convulsions were of a peculiar violence, Dr. Wilkins. I am
sorry you were not here in time to witness them. They were
quite--tetanic in character."

"Ah!" said Dr. Wilkins wisely.

"I should like to speak to you in private," said Dr. Bauerstein.