Chatting with animation, Kennedy tasted the ice.  He had taken only a couple of spoonfuls when a look of wonder and horror seemed to spread over his face.

He rose quickly.  A cold sweat seemed to break out all over him.  His nerves almost refused to respond.  His tongue seemed to be paralyzed and the muscles of his throat seemed to be like steel bands.

He took only a few steps, began to stagger, and finally sank down on the floor.

Elaine screamed.

We rushed in from the library and drawing-room.  There lay Kennedy on the floor, his face most terribly contorted.  We gathered around him and he tried to raise himself and speak, but seemed unable to utter a sound.

He had fallen near the fountain and one hand drooped over into the water.  As he fell back he seemed to have only just enough strength to withdraw his hand from the fountain.  On the stone coping, slowly and laboriously, he moved his finger.

“What’s the matter, old man?” I asked, bending over him.

There was no answer, but he managed to turn his head, and I followed the direction of his eyes.

With trembling finger he was tracing out, one by one, some letters.  I looked and it flashed over me what he meant.  He had written with the water: 

“Digitalin—­lab—­”

I jumped up and almost without a word dashed out of the conservatory, down the hall and into the first car waiting outside.

“To the laboratory,” I directed, giving the driver the directions, “and drive like the deuce!”

Fortunately there was no one to stop us, and I know we broke all the speed laws of New York.  I dashed into the laboratory, almost broke open the cabinet, and seized the bottle of digitalin and a hypodermic syringe, then rushed madly out again and into the car.

Meanwhile some of the guests had lifted up Kennedy, too excited to notice Long Sin in his hiding-place.  They had laid Craig down on a couch and were endeavoring to revive him.  Some one had already sent for a doctor, but the aconite was working quickly on its victim, and he was slowly stiffening out.  Elaine was frantic.

I scarcely waited for the car to stop in front of the house.  I opened the door and rushed in.

Without a word I thrust the antidote and the syringe into the hands of the doctor and he went to work immediately.  We watched with anxiety.  Finally Kennedy’s eyes opened and gradually his breathing seemed to become more normal.

The antidote had been given in time.

. . . . . . .

Kennedy was considerably broken up by the narrow escape which he had had, and, naturally, even the next morning, did not feel like himself.

In the excitement of leaving Elaine’s we had forgotten the bottle of digitalin.  As for myself, I had been so overjoyed at seeing my old friend restored that I would have forgotten anything.