ready fashion, and Jane fed the pale lips of her mistress with sips of brandy. Mrs. Jasher gradually became more alive, and a faint sigh escaped from her lips, as her wounded bosom rose and fell with recovered breath. When Sir Frank was in hopes that she would speak, she suddenly relapsed again into a comatose state. Luckily at that moment Archie returned with young Dr. Robinson at his heels, and also was followed by Painter, the village constable, who had luckily been picked up in the fog.
Robinson whistled as he looked at the insensible woman.
“She's had a narrow squeak,” he muttered, lifting the body with the assistance of Random.
“Will she recover?” questioned Hope anxiously.
“I can't tell you yet,” answered the doctor; and with Sir Frank he carried the heavy body of the widow into her bedroom. “How did it happen?”
“That is my business,” said Painter, who had followed, and who was now filled with importance. “You look after the body, sir, and I'll question these gentlemen and