any
suffering is mild compared to the horrors before her if she kept on. She
was taking some cocaine too. The word means nothing to you, but to a
physician it spells hell. So you see--it gives one strength."

Esther sat up and straightened her collar. "I'm ashamed of myself," she
said. "No wonder you want another nurse. But I won't resign yet. And I
wanted to ask you--do you think it is necessary now to be with her
whenever she goes out? She hates it so. I think she is getting to hate
me, too. Where could she possibly get the stuff? None of our local
stores would sell it without a prescription."

"I know. But in a case like this you can never be sure of anything. No,
we must not relax in the slightest. Even as it is, I am continually
afraid." He began to pace the room restlessly. "There may be a weak spot
somewhere, some loop-hole we have forgotten. I think the druggists are
safe and the mail is watched. That last supply, you are sure it was all
destroyed?"

"Yes, I burned it. At least I gave it to Aunt Amy to burn. I couldn't
leave mother."

"Well, let us call Aunt Amy, and make sure. I believe I am foolishly
nervous, but--" without finishing his sentence the doctor walked to the
door and waited there until Aunt Amy answered his call.

"Auntie," said Esther, "you remember the little package I gave you that
night when mother was so ill? It was done up in purplish blue paper."

"Yes, Esther."

"Do you remember what you did with it, dear?"

Aunt Amy looked frightened.

"I--I don't know. I've a very good memory, Esther. But somehow I'm not
quite sure."

"You will remember presently," said Callandar kindly. "We want to be
quite sure that it was destroyed. You know, I explained to you, that
Mary must take no more of that medicine. It is very dangerous...."

"What does it do?" unexpectedly.

"It is a kind of poison. It makes people very ill, so ill that in time
they die."

"Mary likes it. She says it makes her nerves better and puts her to
sleep."

"When did she say that?"

"When she asked me if I had any."

The doctor and the girl exchanged a quick look.

"And you gave her some?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't. I had burned it in the stove--I remember now."

They both drew a breath of intense relief. But when she had left them,
Callandar looked very sober. "There, you see," he said, "was a
possibility we had overlooked."

"Yes, and it would have been my fault. I should have made sure long ago.
It is hard to