She was cool, cool as Drummond, although she knew her heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer.

There was Kitty Carr, in a revulsion of feeling, her hands pressed tightly to her head again, as if it were bursting.

She was swaying as if she would faint.
Constance caught her gently about the waist and forced her down on the couch where she had been lying the night before.

With her back to the others, she reached quickly into her hand-bag and pulled out the little instrument she had hastily stuffed into it.

Deftly she fastened it to Kitty's wrist and forearm.
She dropped down on her knees beside the poor girl, and gently stroked her free hand, reassuring her in a low tone.
"There, there," she soothed.