CHAPTER XXXIV

ALL IS OVER

That same evening, as Sophy was sitting alone in the veranda after dinner, Lily ayah appeared, her fat arms uplifted in eloquent appeal.

“Oh, missy—­you come with me—­I think our mem-sahib soon, soon die!”

“Die!” exclaimed Sophy, springing to her feet.

“Yes, somehow these drug people are too clever—­she has got cocaine.  I think that water man bring it; anyhow, mem-sahib has taken one big, big dose, and lies as one gone from the world.”

“Send at once for Herr Krauss—­he is in his office,” and Sophy ran towards her aunt’s room and found, as Lily had described, that her relative was passing away; indeed, save for her faint breathing, one would have supposed that she had already crossed the border.

Herr Krauss cast one hurried glance, thundered out of the room, and rang up the telephone; then he returned and stood gazing at his wife, his face working with emotion.

“What has happened?” he asked, turning abruptly to Sophy. “Why is she like this?  What does it mean?”

“I cannot tell.”  A reply which could be taken in two ways.

“It must have been some sudden attack—­her heart, I suppose.  Marling, the nearest doctor, will be here instantly.”  And as he spoke a square-shouldered, severe-looking man entered.  Without a word, but in a most business-like manner, he made an examination of the patient, felt her pulse, turned back her eyelids, and then ejaculated an ominous: 

“Ha!”

“What is it?” inquired Krauss; “what is the matter with my wife?  Is it serious?”

“Don’t you know?” demanded the doctor, turning on him sharply, “it is cocaine poisoning—­the stage.”

“Cocaine!” echoed Krauss, and his large buff-coloured face turned to a leaden hue.  “You are mistaken.  That is not possible!”

“Well, if you don’t believe me, get another opinion,” retorted the doctor brusquely.  “Judging from the slight examination I have made, your wife has been taking the drug for years.”

“Impossible!” almost shouted Krauss.

“Not at all,” rejoined the doctor.  “Cocaine has been poisoning people in Rangoon by hundreds.  Mrs. Krauss is not the only victim.”

Krauss, great heavy man that he was, was now trembling so violently that he was obliged to lean against the wall for support, and, pointing to the bed, he said: 

“I had not the slightest suspicion—­Gott bewahre, I had not.  I thought her ailment was neuralgia.  I will pay any money, no matter what fee.  Surely, you can do something for her?”

“I am afraid not; Mrs. Krauss is beyond help, and can never recover consciousness.  She has been taking quantities of the drug for a long time.  Look at her arm!”—­turning back the sleeve and revealing an emaciated tell-tale limb.