A sudden thought broke in upon him, and with a shout that was almost a shriek he called for Antoine.

The valet found him groaning and in a cold perspiration.
"Don't say a word to Lady Deppingham," he grunted, sitting up in bed and gazing wildly at the ceiling, "but I've been poisoned.

The demmed servants--ouch!--don't you know! Might have known.

Silly ass! See what I mean?
Get something for me--quick!" For two hours Antoine applied hot water bags and soothing syrups, and his master, far from dying as he continually prophesied, dropped off into a peaceful sleep.
The next morning Deppingham, fully convinced that the native servants had tried to poison _him_, inquired of his wife if _she_ had felt the alarming symptoms.

She confessed to a violent headache, but laid it to the champagne.