stage. Under the sedative influence thus administered,
Mrs. Vimpany put away her book, and descended at once from the highest
poetry to the lowest prose.

"Let us return to domestic events," she said indulgently. "Have the
people at the inn given you a good dinner?"

"The people did their best," Mountjoy answered cautiously.

"Has my husband returned with you?" Mrs. Vimpany went on.

Mountjoy began to regret that he had not waited for Iris in the street.
He was obliged to acknowledge that the doctor had not returned with
him.

"Where is Mr. Vimpany?"

"At the inn."

"What is he doing there?"

Mountjoy hesitated. Mrs. Vimpany rose again into the regions of tragic
poetry. She stepped up to him, as if he had been Macbeth, and she was
ready to use the daggers. "I understand but too well," she declared in
terrible tones. "My wretched husband's vices are known to me. Mr.
Vimpany is intoxicated."

Hugh tried to make the best of it. "Only asleep," he said. Mrs. Vimpany
looked at him once more. This time, it was Queen Katharine looking at
Cardinal Wolsey. She bowed with lofty courtesy, and opened the door. "I
have occasion," she said, "to go out"----and made an exit.

Five minutes later, Mountjoy (standing at the window, impatiently on
the watch for the return of Iris) saw Mrs. Vimpany in the street. She
entered a chemist's shop, on the opposite side of the way, and came out
again with a bottle in her hand. It was enclosed in the customary
medical wrapping of white paper. Majestically, she passed out of sight.
If Hugh had followed her he would have traced the doctor's wife to the
door of the inn.

The unemployed waiter was on the house-steps, looking about him--with
nothing to see. He made his bow to Mrs. Vimpany, and informed her that
the landlady had gone out.

"You will do as well," was the reply. "Is Mr. Vimpany here?"

The waiter smiled, and led the way through the passage to the foot of
the stairs. "You can hear him, ma'am." It was quite true; Mr. Vimpany's
snoring answered for Mr. Vimpany. His wife ascended the first two or
three stairs, and stopped to speak again to the waiter. She asked what
the two gentlemen had taken to drink with their dinner. They had taken
"the French wine."

"And nothing else?"

The waiter ventured on a little joke. "Nothing else," he said--"and
more than enough of it, too."

"Not more than enough, I suppose, for the good of the house," Mrs.
Vimpany remarked.

"I beg your