So, placidly and happily, the days drifted by, till March was nearly gone; and then, sudden and staggering as a shell from a masked battery, there fell the blow that was destined to end that peaceful time.

Very late one night there came a nervous knocking at Muriel’s door, and springing up from her bed she came face to face with Daisy’s ayah.  The woman was grey with fright, and babbling incoherently.  Something about “baba” and the “mem-sahib” Muriel caught and instantly guessed that the baby had been taken ill.  She flung a wrap round her, and hastened to the nursery.

It was a small room opening out of Daisy’s bedroom.  The light was turned on full, and here Daisy herself was walking up and down with the baby in her arms.

Before Muriel was well in the room, she stopped and spoke.  Her face was ghastly pale, and she could not raise her voice above a whisper, though she made repeated efforts.  “Go to Blake!” she panted.  “Go quickly!  Tell him to fetch Jim Ratcliffe.  Quick!  Quick!”

Muriel flew to do her bidding.  In her anxiety she scarcely waited to knock at Blake’s door, but burst in upon him headlong.  The room was in total darkness, but he awoke instantly.

“Hullo!  What is it?  That you, Muriel?”

“Oh, Blake!” she gasped.  “The child’s ill.  We want the doctor.”

He was up in a moment.  She heard him groping for matches, but he only succeeded in knocking something over.

“Can’t you find them?” she asked.  “Wait!  I’ll get you a light.”

She ran back to her own room and fetched a candle.  Her hands were shaking so that she could scarcely light it.  Returning, she found Grange putting on his clothes in the darkness.  He was fully as flurried as she.

As she set down the candle there arose a sudden awful sound in Daisy’s room.

Muriel stood still.  “Oh, what is that?”

Grange paused in the act of dragging on his coat.  “It’s that damned ayah,” he said savagely.

And in a second Muriel understood.  Daisy’s ayah was wailing for the dead.

She put her hands over her ears.  The dreadful cry seemed to pierce right through to her very soul.  Then she remembered Daisy, and turned to go to her.

Out in the passage she met the white-faced English servants huddling together and whispering.  One of them was sobbing hysterically.  She passed them swiftly by.

Back in Daisy’s room she found the ayah crouched on the floor, and rocking herself to and fro while she beat her breast and wailed.  The door that led into the nursery was closed.

Muriel advanced fiercely upon the woman.  She almost felt as if she could have choked her.  She seized her by the shoulders without ceremony.  The ayah ceased her wailing for a moment, then recommenced in a lower key.  Muriel pulled her to her feet, half-dragged, half-led her to her own room, thrust her within, and locked the door upon her.  Then she returned to Daisy.