Her eyes were still closed, and she looked death-like and pallid as she lay there in her velvet dress and rich surroundings. A terrible look came into Sydney's face. She put her hand into her bosom and drew out a little vial, unstoppered it, and poured a few drops into the wine. Then she crossed the room to Queenie's side. Her eyes were burning with some inward fire. "Here, Queenie," she said, "drink your wine." CHAPTER XXVII. "Drink your wine, Queenie," repeated Sydney, in a slightly impatient voice. The beautiful actress struggled up to a sitting posture and looked into her sister's face. "Good Heaven, Sydney, what ails you?" she said. "You look positively ghastly. This interview has been too much for you. I entreat you to drink the wine yourself." But Sydney shook her head, although she was trembling like a leaf and her face was ashen white. She could scarcely keep from spilling the wine, the glass wavered so unsteadily in her hand. "I insist upon it," said Queenie. "You need a restorative as much as I do. Drink that yourself and give me another glass." A frightened look came into Sydney's eyes. Was it possible that Queenie had been watching her from under the hands that covered her face? "I--I assure you I do not need it in the least," she faltered; "you looked so ghastly yourself, lying there, that I was frightened, but my nervousness is quite over now. Pray drink it yourself. I am anxious to see you revive enough to continue your story." Queenie took the wine-glass in her hand and raised it to her lips. Sydney watched her with parted lips and burning eyes. Her heart gave a bound of joy as her unfortunate sister touched the fatal draught with her beautiful lips. They were so absorbed that they had not heard a rapping at the door. Both were quite unconscious that the person seeking admittance had grown impatient and recklessly turned the handle. But little as they dreamed of such a thing, it was true. Sydney's dreadful crime had had an unthought-of spectator. A man had stood just inside the room and watched her with wild, astonished, horrified eyes. As Queenie was about to drink the wine he rushed forward and violently struck the glass from her hand. It fell to the floor, shattered into a hundred fragments, the ruby wine splashing over the rich carpet. The actress sprang to her feet and confronted the daring intruder. "Lawrence Ernscliffe!" she gasped. "Lawrence Ernscliffe!" echoed Sydney, in a voice of horror. "Yes, Lawrence Ernscliffe," he answered, looking at Queenie. He seemed to have no eyes for anyone but her, although his second wife stood just at his elbow. "Why are you here?" demanded the actress, haughtily. The tall, handsome man looked at her in astonishment. "Madam, you permitted me to call," he said, "and this is the hour you specified. I knocked, but no one came; then I opened the door and entered." The pride and anger on the lovely face before him softened strangely.