ple who had given her so much trouble a week ago. She felt,
with a hot flash of self-abasement, as if she was morally responsible
for the consequences that seemed likely to attend Lady Deppingham's
indiscretions.

Across the garden from where she was flaying herself bitterly, Lady
Deppingham's husband was saying in low, agitated tones to Bobby Browne's
wife, with occasional furtive glances at the two solitaire workers:

"Now, see here, Brasilia, I'm not saying that our--that is, Lady
Deppingham and Bobby--are accountable for what has happened, but that
doesn't make it any more pleasant! It's of little consequence _who_ is
trying to poison us, don't you know. And all that. _They_ wouldn't do
it, I'm sure, but _somebody_ is! That's what I mean, d'ye see? Lady
Dep--"

"I _know_ my husband wouldn't--couldn't do such a thing, Lord
Deppingham," came from Drusilla's stiff lips, almost as a moan. She was
very miserable.

"Of course not, my dear Drusilla," he protested nervously. Then
suddenly, as his eye caught what he considered a suspicious movement of
Bobby's hand as he placed a card close to Lady Deppingham's fingers:
"Demme, I--I'd rather he wouldn't--but I beg your pardon, Drusilla! It's
all perfectly innocent."

"Of course, it's innocent!" whispered Drusilla fiercely.

"You know, my dear girl, I--I don't hate your husband. You may have a
feeling that I do, but----"

"I suppose you think that I hate your wife. Well, I don't! I'm very fond
of her."

"It's utter nonsense for us to suspect them of--Pray don't be so upset,
Drusilla. It's all right----"

"If you think I am worrying over your wife's _harmless_ affair with my
husband, you are very much mistaken."

Deppingham was silent for a long time.

"I don't sleep at all these night," he said at last, miserably. She
could not feel sorry for him. She could only feel for herself and _her_
sleepless nights. "Drusilla, do--do you think they want to get rid of
us? We're the obstacles, you know. We can't help it, but we are.
Somebody put that pill in my tea to-day. It must have been a servant. It
couldn't have been--er----"

"My husband, sir?"

"No; my wife. You know, Drusilla, she's not that sort. She has a horror
of death and--" he stopped and wiped his brow pathetically.

"If the servants are trying to poison any of us, Lord Deppingham, it is
reasonable to suspect that your wife and my husband are the ones they
want to dispose of, not you and me. I don't beli