"Well, Miss Propert, you won’t fail to let me know how my friend is—will you?" "Of course not," was the reply. "I hope she will be better to-morrow morning. But—well, personally, I entertain but little hope. I have never seen a worse case of diphtheria." Ena hung up the receiver, and crossing the room, took a long sniff at her smelling-salts. Then, going back to the telephone, she rang up Lilla, and said briefly: "Our poor friend is very bad indeed. I’ll let you know how she is in the morning. Is Bernard there?" "No; he’s just gone back," answered her friend. "Well, I want you both to dine here to-morrow night. Will you?" "Why?" "You know the reason—_surely_!" "Oh, yes—yes! Very well, dear. At half-past seven." So that was agreed. Next morning, just before noon, Boyne called at Pont Street and learned from Lilla—who had just spoken to Ena—that Mrs. Morrison of Carsphairn was in an extremely critical condition. "H’m!" grunted her husband. "Then all goes as it should—eh? No other acute disease presents so great a liability to sudden death as diphtheria. I suppose the doctor, whoever he is, has been all along examining the patient’s heart for any indication of an approaching catastrophe." "But sudden death can’t take place—can it?" asked Lilla. "Oh, yes," replied her husband in a voice of authority. "The more insidious forms of sudden death from diphtheria take place through the nervous system and heart. In such a case the pulse beats only twenty or thirty a minute—and that is probably what has aroused the doctor’s fears." "But, according to Ena, she hasn’t a very bad throat." "That may be so," he said, speaking in the way of a medical man. "She may have an extension of the false membrane into the air passage, which would block the larynx trachea or bronchi, which is always gradual, and may be fatal. But if the doctor has come to the conclusion that she’s in a very bad way, I should think that the end will come this evening." "You’ll dine at Ena’s—eh?" "Of course I will. I’ll be there just after seven," he said, and, after leisurely finishing a cigarette, he left her. Just before half-past seven he entered Ena Pollen’s flat, where Lilla was already seated in the drawing-room. He wore a simple blue serge suit, for that night he had come straight from Hammersmith, and had not dressed to go to a restaurant or the theatre. "Well?" he asked the Red Widow. "Anything fresh?" "Nothing. I telephoned to Golder’s Green an hour ago, and found Miss Propert was most despondent." "Poor dear!" laughed Lilla. "What a pity! Her bill will be paid all right—so she needn’t fret!" Presently they sat down to a very pleasant little dinner, where, with sardonic laughter, the trio of death-dealers lifted their glasses of champagne to "dear Augusta’s speedy recovery." After dinner they returned to the drawing-room, where they took their liqueurs and coffee, all three being in excellent spirits.