WHITEWASH
fusion. The drawers of the bureau were emptied upon the floor, a trunk stood open, from which the tilted trays had spilled their contents.
On the bed lay the countess, breathing heavily, a handkerchief over her head. The air was full of the smell of chloroform.
Sonia snatched the saturated linen from the woman's face, while Victoria hurried to the adjoining room. The same confusion reigned, but to a less degree. The thief had evidently known where to look for his booty.
The sick child was stretched stiffly on her side, a little ball of cotton at her nostrils. Across the foot of the bed the maid lay huddled, a gag in her mouth and a cloth securely tied above it. Evidently she had been overpowered before the anæsthetic had been applied.
Victoria snatched the cotton from the child's face and untied gag and bandages. The others crowded into the room, wet towels were brought, brandy applied, and windows opened wide. The atmosphere grew lighter. The countess stirred uneasily, and muttered.
"The doctor—send for him at once!" called
