k it off, told her that he was
examining the canister. She had put it back on the shelf, a harmless
thing now--the poison and the label having been both destroyed by fire.
Nevertheless, his choosing the canister, from dozens of other
things scattered invitingly about it, inspired her with a feeling of
distrustful surprise. She was no longer content to find out what he was
doing by means of her ears. Determined to see him, and to catch him in
the fact, she pulled open the baize door--at the moment when he must
have discovered that the canister was empty. A faint thump told her he
had thrown it on the floor.

The view of the sitting-room was still hidden from her. She had
forgotten the cupboard door.

Now that it was wide open, it covered the entrance to the bedroom, and
completely screened them one from the other. For the moment she was
startled, and hesitated whether to show herself or not. His voice
stopped her.

"Is there another canister?" he said to himself. "The dirty old savage
may have hidden it--"

Teresa heard no more. "The dirty old savage" was an insult not to be
endured! She forgot her intention of stealing on him unobserved; she
forgot her resolution to do nothing that could awaken Carmina. Her
fierce temper urged her into furious action. With both hands outspread,
she flew at the cupboard door, and banged it to in an instant.

A shriek of agony rang through the house. The swiftly closing door had
caught, and crushed, the fingers of Le Frank's right hand, at the moment
when he was putting it into the cupboard again.

Without stopping to help him, without even looking at him, she ran back
to Carmina.

The swinging baize door fell to, and closed of itself. No second cry
was heard. Nothing happened to falsify her desperate assertion that the
shriek was the delusion of a vivid dream. She took Carmina in her arms,
and patted and fondled her like a child. "See, my darling, I'm with you
as usual; and I have heard nothing. Don't, oh, don't tremble in that
way! There--I'll wrap you up in my shawl, and read to you. No! let's
talk of Ovid."

Her efforts to compose Carmina were interrupted by a muffled sound of
men's footsteps and women's voices in the next room.

She hurriedly opened the door, and entreated them to whisper and be
quiet. In the instant before she closed it again, she saw and heard.
Le Frank lay in a swoon on the floor. The landlady was kneeling by him,
looking at his injured hand; and the l