“Good heavens, Peter, can’t you do something? Is she being poisoned?”
“The devil of it is, I don’t think she is. She doesn’t seem to have the symptoms of a poison case. It’s, well—it’s much more like ’flu—or some kind of an infection.”
“Peter—we’ve got to get her to talk. She may die if we don’t.”
Fredericka’s distress was so great that Peter again reached out for her hand in the darkness. “Look here, Fredericka, what do you think I’ve been doing these two days? I’ve been at the Farm damn near every minute. If she has been poisoned, she’s not getting any more now. We’ve got special nurses night and day who watch the liquids and medicines like hawks and she isn’t eating anything, of course.”
“It’s—it’s that bad?”
“Yes. I promise you that we’re doing all we can. I wanted to take her at
