the farther
side of the bed."

"And do you mean to say that you had not touched it since I prepared
it?"

"I do, ma'am."

"And that no one else has been in the room?"

"No one, ma'am."

I looked at her intently. I trusted her, but the best of us are but
mortal.

"Can you assure me that you have not been asleep during this time?"

"Look at this letter I have been writing," she returned. "It is eight
pages long, and it was not begun when you left us at 10 o'clock."

I shook my head and fell into a deep revery. How was that matter to be
elucidated, and how was my patient to be saved? Another draught of
this deadly poison, and no power on earth could resuscitate her. What
should I do, and with what weapons should I combat a danger at once so
subtle and so deadly? Reflection brought no decision, and I left the
room at last, determined upon but one point, and that was the
immediate removal of my patient. But before I had left the house I
changed my mind even on this point. Removal of the patient meant
safety to her, perhaps, but not the explanation of her mysterious
poisoning. I would change the position of her bed, and I would even
set a watch over her and the nurse, but I would not take her out of
the house--not yet.

And what had produced this change in my plans? The look of a woman
whom I met on the stairs. I did not know her, but when I encountered
her glance I felt that there was some connection between us, and I was
not at all surprised to hear her ask:

"And how is Miss Wilcox to-day?"

"Miss Wilcox is very low," I returned. "The least neglect, the least
shock to her nerves, would be sufficient to make all my efforts
useless. Otherwise--"

"She will get well?"

I nodded. I had exaggerated the condition of the sufferer, but some
secret instinct compelled me to do so. The look which passed over the
woman's face satisfied me that I had done well; and, though I left the
house, it was with the intention of speedily returning and making
inquiries into the woman's character and position in the household.

I learned little or nothing. That she occupied a good room and paid
for it regularly seemed to be sufficient to satisfy Mrs. Dayton. Her
name, which proved to be Leroux, showed her to be French, and her
promptly paid $10 a week showed her to be respectable--what more could
any hard-working landlady require? But I was distrustful. Her face,
though handsome, possessed an eager, ferocious look which I could