I started for the door, and then, "Martha, Martha, come quickly," the voice of the housemaid came from below.
The old servant listened for a second or two, and then another scream resounded through the house, and turning to me, she said hurriedly:
"Will you excuse me for one moment, doctor? Somebody is hurt, I'm afraid. It sounds like young Mrs. Martyn."
"All right, run along quickly and see," I answered, but I felt upset, and hardly knew what to do. Had Rita really hurt herself? Surely those cries of pain were not simulated.
However, for the moment I hardened my heart, screwed the needle on to the syringe and, pushing the point deep into the back of the sleeper's neck, pressed the piston down to the bottom of the barrel.
The apparently unconscious man aroused with a yell. The pain of the needle had awakened him. He turned so rapidly as to break off the point of the needle and leave it deeply imbedded in the tissues!
Then, as I hurriedly pocketed the remainder of the broken instrument, he sat up in bed, howling out: "Help, help! murder"
My wits almost left me for a moment.
