Nurse in India by Juliet Armstrong Page A

been trying to cure him before her advent. And so angry did she feel that had the old woman been standing there before her she would have been strongly tempted to do her some physical injury.
    It was better, she decided, to leave the boy to sleep off the drug, but Armand must certainly be brought around. And after half an hour of drastic tre a tment she succeeded in rousing him sufficiently to whisper a few words. There had been something funny about the coffee, he muttered; he had felt queer soon after drinking it and had staggered to th e doorway for air—only to collapse. She would never forgive him, he supposed, for it was the second time he had let her down by his idiocy. Rather ironical, considering he would rather please her than anyone—anyone— he broke off in the middle of the halting sentence, too dr owsy to continue. With a groan of utter weariness, she pull ed him to his feet, and throwing one of his arms arou nd her shoulders, forced him to walk up and down the r oo m . Midnight came and still she was working on him, bullying him into moving about, slapping his pallid face with wet handkerchiefs. And then a curious thing happened. She had the odd and disturbing feeling that she was be ing watched, and wheeling around in the direction of the doorway she met the burning eyes of the old rani. The g lance they exchanged was like a rapier thrust, and in that Instant Stella knew that in Chawand Rao ’ s aunt—the widow of that former raja about whom such terrible things were spoken—she had found a fierce and implacable enemy. So long as she was in the palace, she would have to be ceaselessly on her guard.
    Before she could speak to her the old woman had vanished, and as before, only the faint perfume of sandalwood remained as witness of her presence.
    It was nearly dawn before she thought it safe to leave Armand and go to bed, and even then she dared not sleep. Always she was straining her ears for a stealthy footfall and fancying that she saw a veiled figure gliding toward the child ’ s bed.
    As soon as she was up and dressed, she sent a message to Chawand Rao, begging him to come to see her at the first possible moment. A few minutes later he arrived calm and unhurried as usual, on the surface, but with a look of keen anxiety in his eyes.
    “The child?” he queried steadily.
    “He ’ s no worse—although he was given some sort of a sleeping draft last night while I was out . ”
    The Indian ’ s expression altered, surprise followed swiftly by blazing anger. “You mean—”
    “Wait a moment. I want you to come and see Armand Verle. The person who drugged Prithviraj very nearly finished off his tutor.”
    Without a word he followed her into the room where Armand was lying, still pale and heavy eyed but fully conscious. He gave the Frenchman a courteous greeting an d then, bending over him, peered into his eyes.
    “Opium,” he said briefly, as he straightened himself and then stood for a full two minutes in silence, pondering deeply.
    Surely he ’ s not foolish enough to be in doubt who responsible for this, Stella thought impatiently, and th e next instant realized that whatever Chawand Rao might think of his royal aunt, he would not discuss her with strangers.
    “I shall put a strong guard on all these rooms,” he said at last. “And after I have spoken to them, they will not dare admit anyone who might disobey your orders. To certain others, too, commands will be given, and I can promise you that there will be no further incidents of thi s nature.”
    “I ’ m glad to hear it.” Stella spoke bluntly. “With the prince ’ s crisis coming nearer and nearer, I can ’ t afford to have any more sleepless nights—working the whole time.”
    “Nor shall you,” Chawand Rao assured her. And then he asked, frowning, “Has your friend Miss Jellings sent you the medical supplies you asked for?”
    Stella shook her head. “Not yet, and it ’ s beginning to worry me. I need them