ir has been to me--for I
am poor, and have children--I sometimes wondered, if I did not laugh, at
the queer, far-brought, devilish designs of the doctor. Oh, he is a very
dragon that for cunning! I heard him say he would impress a painted
piece of paper on the child's back, so as to leave a mark, and swear it
was a mother's mark, graven by the hands of the Almighty. Oh the
blasphemy and wickedness of man!"

"Go, dress yourself," said I, "and come with me to the Grange."

"I will, if you can give me some minutes to get a neighbour to take
charge of George and Anne." And away she went to get this family
arrangement completed, while I sat panting with desire to free my friend
from the agony of his condition.

It was about seven o'clock of that same evening that Mrs. Gourlay and I
reached the Moated Grange. I got her shown into an ante-room, to wait
the issue of my interview with Graeme. It happened that the doctor and
he were together, and it even seemed as if they were converging towards
a medium state of confidence. I could observe from the looks of the
victim that he had been so far at least drawn into a recital of facts
(the nature of which it was not difficult for me to conjecture), for I
heard the word Gourlay fall from his lips, as the last of a sentence
which my entry had cut short. Indeed, I may as well state here that
Graeme afterwards admitted to me that when I entered he was in the midst
of a confession of the whole secret of the false play, to which
confession he had been first driven by his internal monitor; and
secondly, led or rather pulled on by the arch-ambidexter, whose game it
was to cheat the cheater, and get the money from him upon some pretence
of seeking out Mrs. Gourlay and paying the money to her. I was, in
short, in the very nick of time, and could hardly help smiling at the
strange part I was playing in what was, as I thought, one of those
serious melodramatic farces of which (in the Frenchman's sense) this
strange world of laughter and groans is made up.

"Dr. Rogers," said I, after the customary greetings, "it is well I have
found you. I picked up a poor woman by the way who lay under the seizure
of premature labour, and knowing the generosity of my friend, I brought
her here for succour and relief. She is in the green parlour, and, I
fear, in exigency. Come."

"May I see her?" said Graeme.

"Certainly, for a moment," said Rogers. "Ah! I rejoice at these
opportunities of employing the b