She must act quickly.
She gave a reassuring nod, turned the gas-jet low, and slid down into bed with the paper clenched in her hand.

But as her head touched the pillow she heard a rustling noise, and craned up her neck again.
The patient had rolled over on her left side, facing her, fighting for breath.
"Yes, yes," Tilda lied hardily.

"To-morrow--Arthur--they shall send for him to-morrow." "Four," said the sick woman.

The word was quite distinct.

Another word followed which Tilda could not catch.
"Four o'clock, or may be earlier," she promised.
"L--l--lozenges," the tongue babbled.
Tilda glanced towards the medicine table.
"Diamonds," said the voice with momentary firmness; "four diamonds.