“I don’t know his name,” said the man, “but if he’s not there, will you wait for him?” “But who is it, Braime? Didn’t he give his name?” “No, miss.” The hands clasped before him were trembling, his eyes held a strange light. “In the dining-room?” she said as she went out. “Yes, miss.” To her surprise, when she looked round, she found he had not accompanied her. The dining-room was empty, except for Jean, her maid. The girl was engaged in dusting, and seemed surprised at the arrival of Lois. “Braime told me a gentleman was waiting to see me?” Jean shook her head. “I don’t know anything about a gentleman, miss, but I do know one thing,” she said viciously. “_He’s_ no gentleman. I caught him coming out of the countess’ room just now and I’m going to tell her ladyship. A sneaking, prying----” “Please find out who it is wishes to see me,” said the puzzled girl. “Perhaps he is in the hall.” Jean went out, but returned in a few minutes, shaking her head. “Nobody is there, miss. Thomas, the footman, says that there have been no callers since Dr. Tappatt left. Mr. Praye is with her ladyship in the drawing-room.” What did this mean? Lois frowned. Braime’s story was obviously an excuse to get her out of the room. She hurried back to the library. The door was closed and she threw it open. “Braime----” she began, and then stopped and said no more. The butler lay on his back in the middle of the floor, a silent, motionless figure, a look of agony on his white face, his lips distorted in a grimace of agony. Chapter Sixteen Her first impulse was to fly, her second, more merciful, was to run to his side, and, kneeling down, loosen his collar. Was he dead? There was no sign of life or sound of breath. The hands, upraised, as though to clutch an invisible enemy, were stiff and rigid. She flew out of the door and called the maid. “Telephone for a doctor, please. Braime is ill,” she said breathlessly, and rushed up the stairs. Lady Moron was deep in conversation with her visitor, but at the sight of the girl she came hurriedly across the room. “What is it?” she asked in a low voice. “It’s Braime,” said Lois breathlessly. “I think he’s dead!” The countess followed her down the stairs at a pace which Lois did not think was possible for so heavy a woman. For a moment she stood in the doorway, surveying the silent man. “This is not for you to see,” she said gently, and, pushing the girl back into the passage, closed the door. Presently she came out. “I’m afraid he’s dead. Tell me what happened. Or first ring through to the Limbo Club for Dr. Tappatt.” Lois told her that she had already given an order for a doctor to be called, and her instructions were fulfilled more efficiently than she had supposed. For Jean had rung the Virginia Hospital, which is within a hundred yards of Chester Square, and even while they were talking in the passage there came the clang of an ambulance bell, and the footman hurried to open the door.