e sergeant-major answered: "Perhaps so. I'll see." After which
nothing more was said about the missing knife.

Julie Heppner felt strangely strong and well as she held the formidable
weapon in her hand. Now at last the hour had come in which she would be
revenged for years of suffering, and for the accumulated disgrace of
her married life. And she regarded her husband and sister with
triumphant glances, as two victims who must fall under her hand without
chance of escape.

There was so much to pack up and arrange during the evening that no one
thought of giving the invalid her morphia.

"Otto, will you give me the medicine?" she requested at last. "I can
prepare it for myself."

The sergeant-major started, and glanced at his sister-in-law, smiling
cynically. The devil! In all this silly excitement they might have
sacrificed the last night before their long separation, if the very
person they were deceiving had not herself come to the rescue.

Ida smiled back at him.

He gave the bottle and a spoon to his wife with a "Mind you don't take
too much." But he thought to himself, "Perhaps she will take a little
more than is ordered, and so sleep the sounder."

Then he went back to his sister-in-law and the packing.

"There!" said Julie, as she held out the spoon. "I believe I did take
just a little more than usual. Ida, will you help me to bed? I begin to
feel tired already!"

Just then it struck ten o'clock. The tattoo sounded.

"So late already?" exclaimed the sergeant-major. "I must be off at once
with this to the baggage-waggon."

He took up his box and turned to go. In the doorway he paused once more
and said, "I shall only just go through the battery and then come back
to bed, for I must be up betimes in the morning."

The sick woman lay waiting. She had taken the knife with her into the
bedroom hidden under her shawl, and now held it grasped convulsively in
her hand.

Close by in the sitting-room her sister was bustling about. The door
had remained half open, so that her movements and occupations could be
plainly perceived from the bedroom. At last she undressed herself
hurriedly, as if forced to hasten.

Through the half opened door she called softly into the dark bedroom,
"Julie, are you asleep?"

Then again, louder and more insistently, "Julie, are you asleep?"

She stood listening awhile at the door, and then got into bed. The door
was still open and the sick woman heard how restlessly she tosse