Chase. "I'm sure
you need the brandy, after all this. Come along. Will you join us, Lady
Deppingham?"

"No. I'm going to bed!" She started away, then stopped and looked at her
husband, her eyes wide with sudden comprehension. "Oh, Deppy, I should
have died! I should have died!"

"My dear!"

"I couldn't have lived if--"

"But, my dear, I _didn't_ eat it--and here we are! God bless you!" He
turned abruptly and walked off beside her, ignoring the two distressed
Americans. As they passed through the French window, Deppingham put his
arm about his wife's waist. Chase turned to Britt.

"I don't know what you're thinking, Britt, but it isn't so, whatever it
is."

"Good Lord, man, I wasn't thinking _that_!"

A very significant fact now stared the occupants of the chateau in the
face. There was not the slightest doubt in the minds of those conversant
with the situation that the poison had been intended for either Lord or
Lady Deppingham. The drug had been subtly, skilfully placed in one of
the sandwiches which came up to their rooms at eleven o'clock, the hour
at which they invariably drank off a cup of bouillon. Lady Deppingham
was not in her room when Bromley brought the tray. She was on the
gallery with the Brownes. Bromley came to ask her if she desired to have
the bouillon served to her there. Lady Agnes directed her to fetch the
tray, first inviting Mrs. Browne to accept Lord Deppingham's portion.
Drusilla declined and Bromley tossed a sandwich to Pong, who was always
lying in wait for such scraps as might come his way. Lady Agnes always
ate macaroons--never touching the sandwiches. This fact, of course, it
was argued, might not have been known to the would-be poisoner. Her
ladyship, as usual, partook of the macaroons and felt no ill effects. It
was, therefore, clear that the poison was intended for but one of them,
as, on this occasion, a single sandwich came up from the buffet. No one
but Deppingham believed that it was intended for him.

In any event, Pong, the red cocker, was dead. He was in convulsions
almost immediately after swallowing the morsel he had begged for, and in
less than three minutes was out of his misery, proving conclusively that
a dose of deadly proportions had been administered. It is no wonder that
Deppingham shuddered as he looked upon the stiff little body in the
upper hall.

Drusilla Browne was jesting, no doubt, but it is doubtful if any one
grasped the delicacy of her humour when sh