Her Majesty's Minister

“Not dead!” I gasped, unable fully to realise his meaning.

“No,” he answered breathlessly. “But we must not lose a single instant.” And I saw that with a lancet he had made an incision in her delicate wrist, and there was blood there. “She is in a state of catalepsy, and we must do all in our power to bring her round.”

“But do you think you can?” I cried.

“I hope so.”

“Do your best, Dick,” I implored. “Save her, for my sake.”

“Rely upon me,” he answered calmly, adding: “Run along to Number 18 in the boulevard – the corner house on the right – and bring Doctor Trépard at once. He lives au troisième. Tell him that I sent you, and that the matter is one of life or death.” He scribbled some words on a card, and, giving it me, added: “Tell him to bring this. Meanwhile, I will commence artificial respiration. Go!”

“But do you think she will really recover?” I demanded.

“I can’t tell. We have already lost so much time. I had no idea of the truth. It has surprised me just as it has surprised you. This moment is not one for words, but for actions. Don’t lose an instant.”

Thus urged, I snatched up my hat and tore along the boulevard like a madman. Without difficulty I found Trépard’s appartement, and on being admitted found him a grave-faced, rather stout old Frenchman, who, on the instant I mentioned Dick’s name and gave him the card with the words upon it, naming some drugs he required, went into an adjoining room, and fetched a phial of tiny red pillules, which he held up to the light. Then he put on his hat, and descended with me to the street. A fiacre was passing, which we took, and five minutes later we were standing together in the room where Yolande was lying.

“This is a most curious case, my dear Trépard,” began Dick, speaking in French – “a case of coma, which I have mistaken for death;” and, continuing, he briefly explained how the patient had been found in a state so closely resembling death that he himself had been deceived.

The old Frenchman placed his hand upon her heart, and, withdrawing it, said:

“She’s breathing now.”

“Breathing!” I echoed. “Then she is recovering!”

“Yes, old fellow,” Dick replied, “she is recovering – at least we hope we shall save her.” Then, turning to his colleague, he raised her hand and pointed to the finger-nails, asking: “Do you notice anything there?”

The other, adjusting his pince-nez, bent and examined, them one by one.

“Yes,” he answered at last. “A slight purple discoloration at the base of the nails.”

“And upon the lower lip does anything strike you as peculiar?”

“A yellow mark,” he answered, after carefully inspecting the spot indicated.

“And there?” Deane asked, touching the mark upon the neck.

“Very strange!” ejaculated the elder man. “It is a most unusual case.”

“Yes. Have you brought the hydrated peroxide of iron?”

For answer the Frenchman produced the tiny tube, saying:

“Then you suspect poison?”

“Most certainly,” he replied; and, taking a glass, he placed a single pillule in it, dissolving it in water, which he afterwards forced between the grey lips of my unconscious love. Afterwards he glanced at his watch, observing: “We must give another in fifteen minutes.”

Then, drawing a chair to the bedside, he seated himself, holding her wrist and watching her countenance for any change that might take place there.

“Have you no idea of the nature of the poison?” I inquired eagerly.

“None,” he responded. “Ask me no questions now. When we have brought her round will be time enough. It should be sufficient for you to know that she is not dead. Why not leave us for the present? Go and break the good news to the Countess.”

“You wish to be alone?”

“Yes. This is a serious matter. Leave us undisturbed, and on no pretext allow her mother to enter here.”

Thus urged, and feeling reassured by their statement that she still lived and that the pulsations of her heart were already quite perceptible, I left the room, noiselessly closing the door after me, and sought the Countess in the small blue boudoir to which she had returned plunged in grief and dark despair.

She was seated in a chair, motionless and statuesque, staring straight before her. The blow had utterly crushed her, for she was entirely devoted to her only daughter now that her husband was dead. I well knew how deep was her affection for Yolande, and how tender was her maternal love.

The room was in semi-darkness, for she had not risen to turn on the light. As I entered I did so with her permission, saying quietly:

“Madame, I come to you with a message.”

“From whom?” she asked in a hard mechanical voice.

“From my friend Deane, the English doctor whom I have summoned. Yolande still lives!”

“She lives!” she cried, springing to her feet in an instant. “You are deceiving me!”

“I am not, madame,” I reassured her, smiling. “Your daughter is still breathing, and is increasing in strength perceptibly. The doctors say that she will probably recover.”

“Thank God!” she gasped, her thin white hands clasped before her. “I pray that He may give her back to me. I will go to her.”

But I held her back, explaining that both the medical men had expressed a wish to remain there alone.

“But what caused that appearance so akin to death?” she asked quickly.

“At present they cannot tell,” I responded. “Some deleterious substance is suspected, but until she has returned to consciousness and can give us some details of her sudden attack we can determine nothing.”

“But she will recover, m’sieur?” the Countess asked. “Are you certain?”

“The chances are in her favour, the doctors say. They have given her a drug to counteract the effect of the poison.”

“Poison! Was she poisoned?” gasped the Countess.

“Poison is suspected,” I answered quietly. “But calm yourself, madame. The truth will be discovered in due course.”

“I care nothing so long as Yolande is given back to me!” the distressed woman cried. “Was it your English friend who discovered the truth?”

“Yes,” I replied. “He is one of the cleverest men in Paris.”

“And to him my poor Yolande will owe her life?”

“Yes, to him.”

“And to you also, m’sieur? You have done your utmost for us, and I thank you warmly for it all.”