She uttered a faint cry, and then wrested herself from Artis, who tried to stop her. "No," she cried, imperiously, changed as it were in an instant from a shivering girl into a thoughtful woman. "Quick: go for help. Mr Girtle, what can I do?" "Yes, let me help too," said Katrine. "What is it; has he tried to kill himself?" "No," cried Lydia, turning upon her fiercely. "He was too true a man." "I'm afraid there has been an attempt made by burglars," said the old lawyer, "and that our young friend has been trying to defend the place; but--but he was locked in here--the key was in my table--and--and--I'm afraid I'm growing very old--things seem so much confused now." He put his hand to his head for a few moments and looked helplessly from one to the other. Then his customary _sang froid_ seemed to have returned. "This is not a sight for you, ladies," he said. "Pray go back." "I am not afraid, Mr Girtle," said Katrine, with a slight shudder as she looked eagerly about the room. For her answer, Lydia took water from the wash-stand, and began to bathe the blood-smeared face, kneeling down by Capel's side. Just then Preenham entered with decanter and glass, the former clattering against the latter, as he poured out some of the contents. Holding a little of the brandy to Capel's clenched teeth, Mr Girtle managed to trickle through a few drops at a time, while Lydia continued the bathing, and Katrine stood, like some beautiful statue, gazing down at them with wrinkled brow and clasped hands. By this time, the knowledge that something was wrong had reached the women-servants, and they had both come to the door. "No, no; keep them away, Preenham," said Mr Girtle, in answer to offers of assistance. "You go down, too, and be at the door, ready to let the doctor in." "Yes, sir, I will," said the old butler, piteously; "but my young master--will he live?" "Please God!" said the lawyer simply. "But he is not dead, sir?" "There is your answer, man," said Mr Girtle, for just then Capel uttered a low moan. The old butler bent down on one knee, and Lydia darted at him a grateful look, as she saw him lift and press one cold hand, and then, laying it down, he rose, and went out of the room on tiptoe, raising his hands and his face towards Heaven. "Was he stabbed--with that sword?" said Lydia, in a hoarse whisper. "No, I think not. The doctor must soon be here," was the reply. In fact, five minutes later there was a quick knock at the door, and Dr Heston hurried in, followed by Artis. "Give me the room," he said quickly. "Ladies, please go." Katrine turned slowly, and glanced at Lydia. "I may stay, Doctor Heston," she said. "I may be of use." "No words now," he said, sharply. "By-and-by you will be invaluable. Well there, stay." He had thrown off his coat and rolled up his sleeves as he spoke, and as Lydia bent her head and stood waiting, Katrine left the room. Then the deft-handed medico was busy with his examination.