ted. The minutes
passed tediously, but at last the door opened, and there appeared Dr.
Medjora, only partly dressed, his feet slippered. In one hand he
carried a night lamp, and in the other he held a bottle and a test
tube. Of this Leon was certain. Closing the door of the laboratory,
the Doctor crossed the study and went out into the hall. Leon stole
after him, and saw him start up the stairs. He watched until, as the
Doctor ascended, the light gradually disappeared. Then he heard
footsteps overhead, and knew that the Doctor had gone to his own room.
Madame slept at the other end of the dwelling.

"Some experiment which he is studying out," muttered Leon, and
proceeded with his own grim purpose. He went into the laboratory, and
lighted a lamp which was on the bench. He searched the closet where
the drugs were kept, but the chloroform bottle was missing. He turned
to the rack where he had left the tube in which the diphtheria
bacillus had been cultivated, but that also could not be found.

In a moment, realizing that the means of committing the contemplated
crime had in some mysterious way been taken from him, he awoke from
the delirium of his thoughts, which had been brought on by his grief
at the death of his dog, and he fervently thanked the fortune which
had saved him from committing murder. Like a culprit, he returned
stealthily to his room, head down, and there he sat at the window,
looking out at the stars, grateful that he could do so, free from that
dread secret which might have been his. He was saved!

On the next morning, however, Leon was horrified to hear that Madame
had been suddenly taken ill, and that the malady was diphtheria, in
its most virulent form. He could not understand it, but he was more
than glad that his own conscience was free from stain.

Two days later, Madame Medjora succumbed to the disease, which is
often fatal when it attacks one of her age; and so she went to her
long account, with her sins upon her head.

CHAPTER XIV.

SANATOXINE.

Mr. Barnes was sitting in his office, looking listlessly over his
morning paper, when his eye suddenly met a headline announcing the
death of Madame Medjora. Instantly his interest was aroused, and he
read the account with avidity until he reached the statement that the
disease of which Madame had died was diphtheria. Then he put his paper
down upon his desk, slapped his hand upon it by way of emphasis, and
ejaculated:

"Foul play, or m