"I'm afraid this requires an explanation," he said to her coldly.

"Please tell me what you were going to do with that water."

She bit her lips and faced him defiantly.

"I shall not answer any question that is put in such a way," she retorted. "Let me pa.s.s; I insist on leaving this room."

"Listen to me, Therese. A little while ago Miss Rowe made a terrible accusation concerning you and Sartorius. I begin to think her statement has got to be investigated. I am giving you a chance now to explain matters."

"Investigated! Are you serious? Surely you saw for yourself that the girl is out of her senses?"

"In view of what Chalmers has just told me I am not entirely sure."

"Absurd! Why, the doctor said before she left that he considered her abnormal. I am sure I have no idea what mad story she has invented, but as for taking her seriously----!"

"Very well, then, tell me what you were going to do with that water.

Why were you trying to throw it away?"

As he spoke it flashed upon him that on another occasion she had been in his room. He recalled her flimsy excuse, which she had later on contradicted.

She began to laugh, cajolingly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Roger; where is your sense of humour? I wasn't trying to throw anything away, I was fetching that water for Miss Rowe.

I remembered there was none in my room----"

"And why were you sure there was some here? No, Therese, that's not good enough. Here, we can't go into the matter now while Miss Rowe's life is in danger, but for all that the thing has got to be talked out.

Listen to me: I want you to go to your room and remain there quietly until that girl is sufficiently recovered to tell me what she knows.

Until then no one can decide whether it is all nonsense or not. Come, please. I insist on it."

Anger flamed in her eyes.

"I am to remain a prisoner in my own house! You are raving!"

"I am perfectly serious, Therese; you have brought it on yourself.

Don't argue. If you refuse you will force me to communicate with ...

the police."

She looked at him as she had done once before, all the venom of her hate concentrated in her eyes.

"Do you know what you are saying to me?" she whispered between dry lips. "Do you realise what this means?"

"I do. I have no wish to make this affair public, any more than you have. Just as long as there remains the possibility of all this originating in Miss Rowe's imagination, I shall do nothing unless you compel me to. Come now, what I suggest is in your own interests. If there's nothing in all this, you are at liberty to bring a suit against me for libel or anything else you can think of."

After a moment's thought she bowed her head very slightly. He moved away from the door and let her precede him. As he pa.s.sed through his bedroom he put his hand inside the top drawer of his dressing-table and, feeling half ashamed, slipped something he had not used since the war into his pocket.... Was the whole thing a monstrous mare's nest?

Was he going to despise himself later on?

With a mind full of doubt he followed the slender black-clad figure out into the hall.

"The other door, please," he ordered, feeling uncomfortably a brute, as she was about to go through the boudoir.

With a slight shrug she walked on and entered her own bedroom, closing the door behind her. He hesitated, then opened the door again, transferred the key to the outside, and turned it in the lock. He was putting the key in his pocket, with a rather guilty feeling, when Chalmers approached him.

"I may have done wrong, sir," he whispered; "if so I am willing to suffer for it. I followed my instinct, sir, if you understand what I mean, and there wasn't much time to think."

A look pa.s.sed between them.

"You needn't say any more, Chalmers, I know you would never have acted as you did without a strong reason. I take it you heard something from Miss Rowe when you let her in."

"I did, sir, and I was fair paralysed with what she told me. What's more, I could take my oath she's as sensible as you or me, let them say what they will."

The old man's habitually wooden face showed deep emotion.

"See here, Chalmers, lock the door of my room and bring me the key.

We'll see that no one gets in there to tamper with that bottle, just in case there's anything wrong."

"Yes, sir, and if you'll take my advice, sir, you'll keep an eye on that doctor. I don't think we can trust him, sir."

With this parting counsel, spoken in a tone of strong conviction, the butler departed on his mission.

Although burning to know what Esther had said to Chalmers on her precipitate dash up the stairs, Roger felt his curiosity must remain unsatisfied for the present. At the moment all that mattered was her safety, already he had left her too long. He suddenly realised that he had been away at least five minutes, and a.s.sailed by fresh fears he hurried at once into the boudoir.

He entered confident of finding his aunt in charge of the situation.

The next instant he cursed his folly in ever leaving the room. The old lady was not there. Instead, the clumsy figure bending over the couch and concealing its occupant from view was that of Sartorius. To his excited brain there was a sinister suggestion in the heavy body that approached so close to the girl lately terrified into unconsciousness.

Roger did not stop to think. He strode forward and with a brusque movement caught hold of the man's arm and pulled him away. As he did so his nostrils detected a familiar odour and he caught sight of some object held in the doctor's hand. Was it a hypodermic syringe? A sick feeling swept over him.

"What are you doing to her?" he demanded furiously.

The doctor straightened up and for a second the two eyed each other in tense silence. Then a shadow of contempt pa.s.sed over the taller man's face.

"My dear Mr. Clifford," he replied deliberately, "if you go away and leave this woman in a critical condition for a considerable length of time, you can hardly expect me not to do what I can for her. You may even admit that my knowledge of what is best is perhaps more extensive than yours."

Steadily Roger's eyes met the gaze of the doctor's little cold greyish ones.

"I don't question your superior knowledge, doctor," he replied with careful emphasis. "But I am not convinced that you were trying to revive her. How do I know"--he paused a moment, then continued slowly--"that you were not doing something to keep her unconscious?"

The suggestion amounted to a slap in the face. He watched keenly to note the result, and saw the heavy figure draw itself up to its full height, seeming at the same time to swell out. The broad face with its sloping, flattish forehead betrayed little if any change of expression.

"You overreach yourself, Mr. Clifford. Your gross insinuation compels me to go at once to Lady Clifford and inform her that I cannot remain longer under the same roof with a person who has so offensively outraged my professional dignity."

He was moving away when Roger stopped him with a gesture.

"I am afraid in the light of what has happened I must make it plain to you that you are not to hold any communication with Lady Clifford for the present. I must ask you to remain at the other end of this room until I give you leave to withdraw."

A sudden gleam shot into the dull little eyes.

"May I ask by what authority you issue orders in this house?"

"I would prefer you didn't ask," retorted Roger with an unwavering gaze, "because the only answer is an extremely direct one."

As he spoke he slipped his right hand into his pocket with a movement there was no misunderstanding.