Her Majesty's Minister

“I mean that when you parted from her this afternoon you were not altogether good friends.”

“You are mistaken,” I assured him. “We were as good friends as ever before.”

“No high words passed between you?”

“None.”

“And nothing that you told her caused her any sudden grief? Are you quite certain of this?” he asked, looking at me very fixedly through his glasses.

“I made one observation which certainly caused her surprise,” I admitted. “Nothing else.”

“Was it only surprise?” he asked very calmly.

“Surprise mingled with fear.”

“Ah!” he ejaculated, as though obtaining some intelligence by this admission of mine. “And may I not know the nature of the information you gave her?”

“No, Dick,” I responded. “It is a secret – her secret.”

He was silent.

“You refuse to tell me?” he said disappointedly.

“I am unable,” I replied.

“And if I judge rightly, it is this secret which has parted you?”

“No, it is not,” I answered. “That’s the most curious part of the whole affair. The very existence of the secret has brought us together again.”

“You mean that you have forsaken Edith and returned to her?” he observed, raising his brows slightly in surprise.

“No; don’t put it in that way,” I implored. “I have not yet forsaken Edith.”

He smiled, just a trifle superciliously, I thought.

“And the Countess is also in possession of this mysterious secret – eh?”

“Of that I am not at all certain,” I replied.

He sniffed in distinct suspicion that what I had told him was not the truth. At the same instant, however, the Countess entered and demanded to know the condition of her child.

“She is much better, madame,” he answered. “Perfect quiet is, however, necessary, and constant observation of the temperature. To-morrow, or the day after, you may, I think, see her.”

“Not till then!” she cried. “I cannot wait so long.”

“But it is necessary. Your daughter’s life hangs upon a single thread.”

She was silenced, for she saw that argument was useless.

A few minutes later Jean entered with a message from Trépard asking Dick and myself to consult with him. We therefore left the Countess again, and passed along the corridor to the room in which my love of long ago was lying. As we entered she lifted her hand slowly to me in sign of recognition, and in an instant I was at her side.

“Yolande!” I cried, taking her hand, so different now that death had been defeated by life. “Yolande! my darling,” I burst forth involuntarily, “you have come back to me!”

A sweet, glad smile spread over her beautiful face, leaving an expression of calm and perfect contentment, as in a low, uncertain voice, as though of one speaking afar off, she asked:

“Gerald, is it actually you?”

“Yes,” I said, “of course it is. These two gentlemen are doctors,” I added. “This is my old friend Deane; and the other is Doctor Trépard, of whom I daresay you have heard.”

She nodded to them both in acknowledgment of their kind expressions; then in a few low words inquired what had happened to her. She seemed in utter ignorance of it all.

“You were found lying on the floor of the little salon soon after I left, and they thought you were dead,” I explained. “Cannot you tell us how it occurred?”

A puzzled expression settled upon her face, as though she were trying to remember.

“I recollect nothing,” she declared.

“But you surely remember how you were attacked?” I urged.

“Attacked!” she echoed in surprise. “No one attacked me.”

“I did not mean that,” I answered, rather puzzled at her quick protest. “I meant that you were probably aware of the symptoms which preceded your unconsciousness.”

“I felt a strange dizziness and a curious tightness in the throat and chest. That is all I remember. All became blank until I opened my eyes again and found myself lying here, with these two gentlemen standing at my side. The duration of my unconsciousness did not appear to me longer than a few minutes.”

“Then mademoiselle has no idea of the cause of her strange illness?” inquired Deane in French. “None whatever, m’sieur.”

“Tell us one fact,” he urged. “During the time which elapsed between your parting with M’sieur Ingram and your sudden unconsciousness, did anyone enter the room?”

“No one; of that I am absolutely certain.”

“How were you occupied during that time?”

“I was writing a letter.”

“And before you rose did you feel the curious giddiness?”

“No, not until after I stood up. I tried to shout and attract help, but could not. Then I reached to press the bell, but stumbled forward, and the next instant I was lost in what seemed to be a dense fog.”

“Curious!” ejaculated Trépard, who stood by with folded arms, eagerly listening to every word – “very curious!”

“Did you feel any strange sensation on the left side of your neck beneath the ear, or upon your lower lip?” inquired Deane earnestly.

She reflected for a moment, then said:

“Now that I remember, there was a curious numbness of my lip.”

“Followed immediately by unconsciousness?”