“What was that?”

It was not a loud cry—­but there was something in it which brought Mrs. Sykes’ heart leaping into her throat, which sent Esther reeling against the stair baluster, which brought the doctor, white-faced from the veranda—­it was the kind of cry which carries in its note the psychic essence of terror and disaster.

Mrs. Sykes for all her iron nerve felt suddenly faint.  Jane began to cry.  The doctor and Esther had raced up the stairs.  But there was no repetition of the cry.  Instead there was silence.  Then a murmur of voices and sounds of ordered activity overhead.

Clearly something had happened.  But what?  Mrs. Sykes wanted very much to go and see.  But the glimpse she had caught of Callandar’s eyes as he sprang to the stair, the look of white horror in Esther’s face as she followed him, and above all, that strange terrifying Something in the cry she had heard seemed to discourage enquiry.  The good lady turned her attention to the comforting of Jane.  After all, if she waited long enough she could hardly help hearing all about it.  At first hand, too.

It seemed a long time that she waited.  Miss Philps came up and down the stairs several times but she did not appear to see Mrs. Sykes.  Jane stopped crying and wandered out into the garden.  Still Mrs. Sykes waited and presently Aunt Amy came in, looking quite excited and asked eagerly what time it was.  Mrs. Sykes told her, adding with asperity that these were fine goings-on, and that they’d all be late for the wedding if they didn’t hurry up.

“Yes, I think they will.  I’m almost sure they will,” said Aunt Amy, and she laughed as a child laughs when it is greatly pleased.

“Dear me, she is much madder than I thought,” murmured Mrs. Sykes.  “Whatever is the matter?  What are they doing?” she asked in a louder tone.

Aunt Amy raised a finger, “Hush! she’s asleep.  Let us tidy up the room.  I don’t think she is going to wake up for a long time yet.  And then she’ll have to wait till the world goes round again.”

“Well of all the—­” began Mrs. Sykes, but she was interrupted by the entrance of Professor Willits.  With the virtuous air of one who strictly minds her own business she began to tie her bonnet strings.

“Don’t go, Mrs. Sykes,” said the professor gravely.  “I think—­I’m afraid you may be needed.”

“I hope nothing serious has happened?” faltered Mrs. Sykes, now thoroughly disturbed, but he did not seem to hear her.  He was listening intently to the sounds overhead.  They were very slight sounds now and presently they ceased altogether.  Willits looked more anxious.  Then, in the midst of a new, heavier silence, Dr. Callandar himself came down the stairs.

At first sight he appeared almost as usual.  He did not notice Mrs. Sykes but went straight across the room to Willits.

“Nothing—­any use—­” he began haltingly.  Then suddenly the words ceased to come.  His lips moved but there was no sound.  With an expression of intense surprise he lifted his hand to his head, and swayed awkwardly into the nearest chair.