d violent, we can only have
recourse to narcotics. We have already allayed the suffering consequent
on my examination and you may rely upon some hours of calm; for any
subsequent contingency Doctor Gallagher has my instructions. Of course,
if you wish me to have one more glimpse at him before I go----"

But Milbanke, who had also risen, held out his hand mechanically.

"Oh no," he said quietly. "No, thank you! I don't think we will trouble
you any further. It has been a great satisfaction to have obtained
your--your opinion."

Molyneaux waved his hand magnanimously.

"Do not mention it!" he murmured. "My regret is deep that I have been
of so little avail. Good-bye again, Mr. Milbanke! It has been an honour
as well as a pleasure to meet you."

He smiled blandly, and added the last remark as Gallagher solicitously
helped him into his furlined travelling coat. Then, still suavely
genial, he passed out of the dining-room towards the hall door.

Gallagher hurried after him, but, in passing Milbanke, he paused.

"I'll be back in an hour, Mr. Milbanke," he said. "I'm just going as
far as Carrigmore with Doctor Molyneaux to get an additional supply of
morphia."

Milbanke nodded silently, and in his turn stepped into the hall.

When the two men had entered the waiting vehicle, when Molyneaux had
waved a courtly farewell and the coachman had gathered up the reins, he
turned and slowly began to mount the stairs.

Instantly his foot touched the landing, Mrs. Asshlin darted from the
shadowy corridor.

"What news?" she asked agitatedly. "Oh, Mr. Milbanke, what news? The
suspense has been dreadful."

Her voice trembled. Tears came very easily to Mrs. Asshlin, and her
habitual attitude of mourning had heretofore irritated Milbanke. But
now her thin face and faded black garments came as a curiously welcome
contrast to the bland affluence, the genial, complacent superiority of
Molyneaux. He turned to her with a feeling of warmth.

"Forgive my delay, Mrs. Asshlin!" he said gently. "One is never in a
hurry to impart bad news. Doctor Molyneaux holds out no hope--not a
shadow of hope."

There was a pause; then Mrs. Asshlin made a tragic gesture.

"Oh, the children!" she murmured. "The poor, poor children! What will
become of them?"

"The children will be provided for," Milbanke said hastily. Then,
without giving her time for question or astonishment, he went on again:

"Don't say anything of this to Clodagh," he enjoined