She was evidently conscious of the change, for she turned her head away quickly and reddened somewhat.  But it was no time for thoughts of personal appearance.

“You can save him, doctor!  You will not let him die!  He must not be allowed to die!”

She spoke with as much passion as if he had been the dearest friend that she had in the world, which I suspected was far from being the case.  But her manifest terror had its uses.

“If anything is to be done to save him,” I said, “it must be done quickly.  I will give him some medicine at once, and meanwhile you must make some strong coffee.”

“Coffee!” she exclaimed.  “But we have none in the house.  Will not tea do, if I make it very strong?”

“No, it will not.  I must have coffee; and I must have it quickly.”

“Then I suppose I must go and get some.  But it is late.  The shops will be shut.  And I don’t like leaving Mr. Graves.”

“Can’t you send the coachman?” I asked.

She shook her head impatiently.  “No, that is no use.  I must wait until Mr. Weiss comes.”

“That won’t do,” I said, sharply.  “He will slip through our fingers while you are waiting.  You must go and get that coffee at once and bring it to me as soon as it is ready.  And I want a tumbler and some water.”

She brought me a water-bottle and glass from the wash-stand and then, with a groan of despair, hurried from the room.

I lost no time in applying the remedies that I had to hand.  Shaking out into the tumbler a few crystals of potassium permanganate, I filled it up with water and approached the patient.  His stupor was profound.  I shook him as roughly as was safe in his depressed condition, but elicited no resistance or responsive movement.  As it seemed very doubtful whether he was capable of swallowing, I dared not take the risk of pouring the liquid into his mouth for fear of suffocating him.  A stomach-tube would have solved the difficulty, but, of course, I had not one with me.  I had, however, a mouth-speculum which also acted as a gag, and, having propped the patient’s mouth open with this, I hastily slipped off one of the rubber tubes from my stethoscope and inserted into one end of it a vulcanite ear-speculum to serve as a funnel.  Then, introducing the other end of the tube into the gullet as far as its length would permit, I cautiously poured a small quantity of the permanganate solution into the extemporized funnel.  To my great relief a movement of the throat showed that the swallowing reflex still existed, and, thus encouraged, I poured down the tube as much of the fluid as I thought it wise to administer at one time.

The dose of permanganate that I had given was enough to neutralize any reasonable quantity of the poison that might yet remain in the stomach.  I had next to deal with that portion of the drug which had already been absorbed and was exercising its poisonous effects.  Taking my hypodermic case from my bag, I prepared in the syringe a full dose of atropine sulphate, which I injected forthwith into the unconscious man’s arm.  And that was all that I could do, so far as remedies were concerned, until the coffee arrived.