had purchased the wine; and, after a little thinking, his motive for
inviting Mr. Vimpany to dinner seemed to be equally plain. Foiled in
their first attempt at discovery by her own prudence and tact, his
suspicions had set their trap. Her gross husband had been tempted to
drink, and to talk at random (for Mr. Mountjoy's benefit) in a state of
intoxication!

What secrets might the helpless wretch not have betrayed before the
wine had completely stupefied him?

Urged by rage and fear, she shook him furiously. He woke; he glared at
her with bloodshot eyes; he threatened her with his clenched fist.
There was but one way of lifting his purblind stupidity to the light.
She appealed to his experience of himself, on many a former occasion:
"You fool, you have been drinking again--and there's a patient waiting
for you." To that dilemma he was accustomed; the statement of it
partially roused him. Mrs. Vimpany tore off the paper wrapping, and
opened the medicine-bottle which she had brought with her.

He stared at it; he muttered to himself: "Is she going to poison me?"
She seized his head with one hand, and held the open bottle to his
nose. "Your own prescription," she cried, "for yourself and your
hateful friends."

His nose told him what words might have tried vainly to say: he
swallowed the mixture. "If I lose the patient," he muttered oracularly,
"I lose the money." His resolute wife dragged him out of his chair. The
second door in the dining-room led into an empty bed-chamber. With her
help, he got into the room, and dropped on the bed.

Mrs. Vimpany consulted her watch.

On many a former occasion she had learnt what interval of repose was
required, before the sobering influence of the mixture could
successfully assert itself. For the present, she had only to return to
the other room. The waiter presented himself, asking if there was
anything he could do for her. Familiar with the defective side of her
husband's character, he understood what it meant when she pointed to
the bedroom door. "The old story, ma'am," he said, with an air of
respectful sympathy. "Can I get you a cup of tea?"

Mrs. Vimpany accepted the tea, and enjoyed it thoughtfully.

She had two objects in view--to be revenged on Mountjoy, and to find a
way of forcing him to leave the town before he could communicate his
discoveries to Iris. How to reach these separate ends, by one and the
same means, was still the problem which she was trying to solv