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chalk, the candle he held in his shaking hand was sputtering onto the

carpet, and his eyes, petrified with terror, or some such kindred emotion,

stared fixedly over my head at a point on the further wall. It was as though

he had seen something that turned him to stone. I instinctively followed the

direction of his eyes, but I could see nothing unusual. The still feebly

flickering ashes in the grate, and the row of prim ornaments on the

mantelpiece, were surely harmless enough.

The violence of Mrs. Inglethorp's attack seemed to be passing. She was able

to speak in short gasps.

"Better now--very sudden--stupid of me--to lock myself in."

A shadow fell on the bed and, looking up, I saw Mary Cavendish standing

near the door with her arm around Cynthia. She seemed to be supporting

the girl, who looked utterly dazed and unlike herself. Her face was heavily

flushed, and she yawned repeatedly.

"Poor Cynthia is quite frightened," said Mrs. Cavendish in a low clear voice.

She herself, I noticed, was dressed in her white land smock. Then it must be

later than I thought. I saw that a faint streak of daylight was showing

through the curtains of the windows, and that the clock on the mantelpiece

pointed to close upon five o'clock.

A strangled cry from the bed startled me. A fresh access of pain seized the

unfortunate old lady. The convulsions were of a violence terrible to behold.

Everything was confusion. We thronged round her, powerless to help or

alleviate. A final convulsion lifted her from the bed, until she appeared to

rest upon her head and her heels, with her body arched in an extraordinary

manner. In vain Mary and John tried to administer more brandy. The

moments flew. Again the body arched itself in that peculiar fashion.

At that moment, Dr. Bauerstein pushed his way authoritatively into the

room. For one instant he stopped dead, staring at the figure on the bed,

and, at the same instant, Mrs. Inglethorp cried out in a strangled voice, her

eyes fixed on the doctor:

"Alfred--Alfred----" Then she fell back motionless on the pillows.

With a stride, the doctor reached the bed, and seizing her arms worked them

energetically, applying what I knew to be artificial respiration. He issued a

few short sharp orders to the servants. An imperious wave of his hand drove

The Mysterious Affair at Styles