How still the house was:  not a sound but the ticking of the clock in the hall and the rushing scamper of a rat or mouse.  The dawn reddens faintly in the east and the chill morning breeze comes up from the south, salt with the odours of the ocean.  Ah! what is that? a scream—­a woman’s voice—­then another, and the bell rings furiously.  The frightened servants collect from all parts of the house, in all shapes of dress and undress.  The bell sounds from the bedroom of Mrs Villiers, and having ascertained this they all rush in.  What a sight meets their eyes.  Kitty Marchurst, still in her ball dress, clinging convulsively to the chair; Madame Midas, pale but calm, ringing the bell; and on the bed, with one arm hanging over, lies Selina Sprotts—­dead!  The table near the bed was overturned on the floor, and the glass and the night-lamp both lie smashed to pieces on the carpet.

‘Send for a doctor at once,’ cried Madame, letting go the bell-rope and crossing to the window; ‘Selina has had a fit of some sort.’

Startled servant goes out to stables and wakes up the grooms, one of whom is soon on horseback riding for dear life to Dr Chinston.  Clatter—­clatter along in the keen morning air; a few workmen on their way to work gaze in surprise at this furious rider.  Luckily, the doctor lives in St Kilda, and being awoke out of his sleep, dresses himself quickly, and taking the groom’s horse, rides back to Mrs Villiers’ house.  He dismounts, enters the house, then the bedroom.  Kitty, pale and wan, is seated in the chair; the window curtains are drawn, and the cold light of day pours into the room, while Madame Midas is kneeling beside the corpse, with all the servants around her.  Dr Chinston lifts the arm; it falls limply down.  The face is ghastly white, the eyes staring; there is a streak of foam on the tightly clenched mouth.  The doctor puts his hand on the heart—­not a throb; he closes the staring eyes reverently, and turns to the kneeling woman and the frightened servants.

‘She is dead,’ he says, briefly, and orders them to leave the room.

‘When did this occur, Mrs Villiers?’ he asked, when the room had been cleared and only himself, Madame, and Kitty remained.

‘I can’t tell you,’ replied Madame, weeping; ’she was all right last night when we went to bed, and she stayed all night with me because I was nervous.  I slept soundly, when I was awakened by a cry and saw Kitty standing beside the bed and Selina in convulsions; then she became quite still and lay like that till you came.  What is the cause?’

‘Apoplexy,’ replied the doctor, doubtfully; ’at least, judging from the symptoms; but perhaps Miss Marchurst can tell us when the attack came on?’

He turned to Kitty, who was shivering in the chair and looked so pale that Madame Midas went over to her to see what was the matter.  The girl, however, shrank away with a cry as the elder woman approached, and rising to her feet moved unsteadily towards the doctor.