now enough to be certain."

"It is a clear case--a very clear case, and an aggravated one," said
Carfew. "Mr. Chesney is a morphinomaniac. He is so addicted to the drug
that he varies the effect with cocaine--takes them alternately--both
drugs hypodermically."

Sophy sat as before, gazing at him without a word. It was as if it
paralysed her to hear these long-surmised horrors put into plain words.

Carfew glanced at her with some irritation.

"I hope you are not going to allow yourself to give way to an attack of
nerves because I speak frankly," he said.

She gave a little start, as if waking. "I do not have attacks of
nerves," she then said quietly.

The great man looked mollified.

"Pardon my blunt speech," he said; "but I am so used to ladies
collapsing into hysterics under such circumstances. That--or not
believing a word I say," he added grimly.

"I believe all that you say. What must I do?"

"Ah--there is the difficulty! I must tell you at once that it is out of
the question to think of trying to deal with such a case in the
patient's own home. He should be sent at once to a sanatorium--where he
can be properly treated and restrained."

"He would never consent," said Sophy, in a dull voice.

"Good heavens! my dear lady--are you dreaming of consulting the wishes
of a maniac?"

"He is not always like this, Doctor Carfew. At times he is perfectly
rational."

"Quite so. When he has had neither too much nor too little of either
drug. To be in an apparently normal condition, now that he is saturated
with the poison, his system must daily absorb a certain amount of either
cocaine or morphia. Too little racks his nerves. Too much turns him into
a madman."

Sophy paled even more; then she said apathetically:

"I know positively that he would refuse to go to such a place as that
you mentioned."

Carfew rose, and took a few turns about the room. Then he came and stood
near, looking down at her keenly.

"Mrs. Chesney," he said, "your husband was within an ace of death, last
night. I will not enter into medical detail. Only the prompt
intelligence of his servant saved him. Do you propose allowing him to
destroy himself rather than face his anger?"

"It isn't the question of his anger alone, Doctor Carfew. It is the
question of his family--of his mother. I would not be justified in
acting alone. Lady Wychcote must be consulted."

Carfew looked at her intently. His eyebrows were yellow-grey like his
hai