He had swooned.

The two men raised him, carried him up the stone steps, and laid him with infinite care on a sofa.

He lay, breathing queerly through the nostrils, his eyes closed, his fingers contracted; every now and then a convulsion ran through his frame.
'One of us must fetch a doctor,' said Prince Aribert.
'I will,' said Racksole.

At that moment there was a quick, curt rap on the french window, and both Racksole and the Prince glanced round startled.

A girl's face was pressed against the large window-pane.