ice," she said.

They helped her back to her own room between them, almost carrying her,
for she seemed to have no strength left.

Max said nothing further of any sort till she was safely in bed, then
somewhat brusquely he turned to Olga.

"Put on your dressing-gown and go down to the surgery! I want a bottle
out of the cupboard there. It's a poison bottle, labelled P.K.R.; you
can't mistake it. Third shelf, left-hand corner. The keys are in your
father's desk. You know where. Put on your slippers too, and take a
candle! Mind you don't tumble downstairs!" His eyes travelled to the
doorway where Nick hovered. "Go with her, will you?" he said. "Bring
back a medicine-glass too! There's one on the surgery mantelpiece."

He turned back to Violet again, stooping low over her, his hand upon her
wrist.

Olga fled upon her errand with the speed of a hare, leaving Nick to
follow with a candle. Even as she went she heard a cry behind her, but
she sped on with a feeling that Max was compelling her.

When Nick joined her a few seconds later she had already found the keys
and was fumbling in the dark for the cupboard-lock.

They found the medicine-bottle exactly where Max had said, and Olga
snatched it out, seized the glass, and was gone. She was back again in
Violet's bedroom barely two minutes after she had left it, but the
instant she entered she was conscious of a change. Violet was lying
quite straight and stiff with glassy eyes upturned. Max was bending over
her, tight-lipped, motionless, intent. He spoke without turning his
head.

"Just a teaspoonful--not a drop more. The rest water."

Olga poured out the dose, controlling her hands with difficulty.

"Not a drop more," he reiterated. "There's sudden death in that.
Finished? Then give it to me!"

He raised Violet up in bed and took the glass from Olga. A curious
perfume filled the room--a scent familiar but elusive. Olga stood
breathing it, wondering what it brought to mind.

Max held the glass against the pale lips, and suddenly she remembered.
It was the magic draught he had given to her two days before.

Violet seemed to be unconscious, but she drank nevertheless very slowly,
with long pauses in between. Gradually the glassy look passed from her
eyes, the long lashes drooped.

Max held out the empty glass to Olga. "You go back to bed now," he said.
"She will sleep for some time."

"I can't leave her," Olga whispered.

He was lowering the senseless girl up