The Secret Adversary

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Mrs. Vandemeyer complied. The brandy brought the colour back to her
white cheeks, and revived her in a marvellous fashion. She tried to sit
up--then fell back with a groan, her hand to her side.

"It's my heart," she whispered. "I mustn't talk."

She lay back with closed eyes.

Sir James kept his finger on her wrist a minute longer, then withdrew it
with a nod.

"She'll do now."

All three moved away, and stood together talking in low voices. One
and all were conscious of a certain feeling of anticlimax. Clearly any
scheme for cross-questioning the lady was out of the question for the
moment. For the time being they were baffled, and could do nothing.