"Do you mean...?" she whispered finally. "You don't mean that he ... he...?"
"Oh, madam! What else can I think? It began yesterday. I thought one of the maids had upset it and didn't like to say--they never do, madam. Full a pint went yesterday. But as there was enough left in the bottle for the making of his morning coffee, I didn't trouble to fill it till this afternoon. But now.... And he was so strange an hour ago. So wild-like ... different...."
"I didn't know...." murmured Sophy, her eyes fixed in horror on the empty bottle. "I didn't know that ... that.... I thought it was poisonous...."
"Oh, no, madam! It's methylated spirits you're thinking of. This is ninety-five-proof--pure alcohol. It's done, madam. I've heard of it's being done. But I never thought...."
Sophy looked at the little servant helplessly.
"I don't know what to do, Gaynor," she said, in the voice of a child. "What can I do?"
"Would you come speak to him, madam, through the door? He might answer you."
"Yes, I'll come," she said. She looked at him out of appalled eyes. "But don't leave me, Gaynor, will you? Come, too."
"No, no, madam. I'll not leave you. Never fear."
Together the little grey figure and the tall white one stole down the corridor to Chesney's door.
Sophy put her mouth close to the crevice of the door. Her heart was beating so that it shook her lips against the wood.
"Cecil--Cecil!" she called softly. "It's I--Sophy. I'm so afraid you're ill. Won't you speak to me, Cecil?"
There was no answer. She tried again and again. Presently she heard that low, ominous laugh.
"It's no use," she whispered, drawing away in terror. "Have you told Doctor Bellamy?"
"No, madam. No one but you. I didn't like to."
"I know, Gaynor," she said, still whispering. "It's hard to have to tell--but I'm afraid we ought."
"Mightn't we wait? Just a bit longer, madam? I'll keep watch...."
"Well, then," she said reluctantly, "I shall not sleep, either."
"Bring me a few of Mr. Chesney's cigarettes, Gaynor. Mine have given out. Bring me some of his cigarette-papers, too. I'll roll them smaller, as he's been doing lately."
"Very well, madam. But there's very few in the last-opened box. Mr. Chesney won't have me open a new box, madam. He's very particular. He don't like me to meddle with his cigarettes. If you'll just be so kind, madam, as to tell him it was your orders. I fear to anger him as he is now."