"No, no, go for brandy--for cold water to bathe her face." "I don't leave her again," cried the woman, passionately; "I'd sooner die." Garstang gazed down at them wildly for a few moments, and then rushed across into the dining-room, obtained the brandy, a glass, and a carafe of water, and returned, to begin bathing Kate's temples and hands, but without the slightest result, save that her breathing became fainter, and the ghastly symptoms of collapse slowly increased. "She's going--she's going!" moaned the shuddering woman, who knelt by the couch, holding Kate tightly as if to keep her there. "We've poisoned her! we've poisoned her!" The panic which had seized upon Garstang increased, as he gazed wildly at his work. Strong man as he was, and accustomed to control himself, he began now to lose his head; and at last, thoroughly aghast, he caught the housekeeper by the shoulder and shook her. "Don't leave her," he said, in a husky whisper. "I'm going out." "What!" cried the woman, turning and catching his arm; "going to try and escape, and leave me here?" "No, no," he whispered; "a doctor--to fetch a doctor." "Yes, yes," moaned the woman; "a doctor--fetch a doctor; but it is too late--it is too late!" Garstang hardly heard her words, as he bent down and took a hurried look at Kate's face. Then hurrying to the door, he caught sight of Becky still watching. "Go down and help your mother," he cried, excitedly; and unfastening the door, he rushed out. CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. Pierce Leigh returned home after a long weary day of watching. From careful thought and balancing of the matter, he had long come to the conclusion that Claud Wilton's ideas were right, and that John Garstang knew where his cousin was. But suspicion was not certainty, and though he told himself that he had no right or reason in his conduct, he could not refrain from spending all the time he could spare from his professional work in town--work that was growing rapidly--in trying to get some news of the missing girl. He was more amenable now, and ready to discuss the matter with his sister, who remained Kate's champion and declared that she was sure there was some foul play in the matter; but he would not give way, and laughed bitterly whenever Jenny aired her optimism, and said she was sure that all would end happily after all. "Silly child!" he said bitterly. "If Miss Wilton was the victim of foul play--which I do not believe--she could have found some means of communicating with her friends." "But she had no friends, Pierce," cried Jenny. "She told me so more than once." "She had you." "Oh, I don't count, dear; I was only an acquaintance, and it had not had time to ripen into affection on her side. I soon began to love her, but I don't think she cared much for me." "Ah, it was a great mistake," sighed Leigh. "What was?" cried Jenny sharply. "Our going down to Northwood. I lost a thousand pounds by the transaction."