ften between this man and herself if they
were to save Cecil. "About the amount that you were to give Mr.
Chesney!"

Gaynor looked down as though ashamed for the little doctor.

"He said that nothing could be done just at present, madam. That I must
keep the master comfortable. That he must be reasoned with when he was
better, and spoken to very plain for his own good."

"I see," said Sophy wearily.

She thought again; then asked:

"When do you think that Mr. Chesney will be strong enough for me to talk
with him? I mean to talk really with him--to--to let him know that--I
know!"

"By this evening--about nine, I should say, madam."

Sophy gazed at him in astonishment.

"By this evening? But he is still so ill, Gaynor!"

"This isn't like other illnesses, madam. I have only to give him a large
dose, and it will put him normal."

"But Doctor Carfew's orders?"

The man looked sadly and wisely at her.

"He would not object, I'm sure, madam, seeing the object that is in
view."

"And it will not injure him?"

"Oh, no, madam! At the worst, it will only delay things a bit."

Sophy leaned her head on her hand. She felt mortally tired--soul, mind,
and body.

"Very well, then, Gaynor," she said, in a low voice, "at nine o'clock I
will come to Mr. Chesney's room."

* * * * *

When she entered her husband's room that evening, she saw that he was
expecting her. His face lighted up as she came in, and he held out one
hand towards her. His eyes showed the dulled surface and contracted
pupils that she now knew meant a recent dose of morphia. Otherwise, his
appearance was normal. But when he began to speak she noted the dryness
of the mouth which she felt must also be produced by the drug. He was
propped upon several large pillows, as on that evening some two weeks
ago, and there were books and writing materials around him. She was
surprised to see a glass of champagne on the little table, remembering
what Gaynor had said about Dr. Carfew's commands in that respect. Then
she realised that the man was merely violating instructions on this
occasion in order to put her husband in a fitting condition for their
talk.

Chesney saw her look at the glass of wine, and said with good-humoured
peevishness:

"I see you're wondering at my scant allowance. But that old screw Gaynor
is a terrible bully at these times. He knows he has me in his
power--confound him! So he keeps me on short rations