and with a certain eagerness in
her tone, "what killed him? Was it poison?"

"Poison, my good woman!" said I. "When a man has typhoid fever he don't
need poison to kill him. He had a relapse, that's all."

"And do you mean to say he wasn't poisoned," said she, with more than a
trace of disappointment in her voice--"not poisoned at all?"

"No more than you are," said I. "If I had found any signs of foul play I
should have had a regular inquest. As it is, the less said about it the
better. The fact is, it would have been much wiser to have kept quiet at
the beginning. I can't understand why you should have troubled me about
it at all. The man had a perforation. It is common enough in typhoid."

"That's what the doctor said--I didn't believe him. I guess now the
sooner I leave the better for me."

"As to that," I returned, "it is none of my business; but you may rest
certain about the cause of your brother's death."

My fears were somewhat quieted that evening when Stagers and the wolf
appeared with the remainder of the money, and I learned that Mrs. File
had fled from her home and, as File thought likely, from the city also.
A few months later File himself disappeared, and Stagers found his way
for the third time into the penitentiary. Then I felt at ease. I now
see, for my own part, that I was guilty of more than one mistake, and
that I displayed throughout a want of intelligence. I ought to have
asked more, and also might have got a good fee from Mrs. File on account
of my services as coroner. It served me, however, as a good lesson; but
it was several months before I felt quite comfortable.

Meanwhile money became scarce once more, and I was driven to my wit's
end to devise how I should continue to live as I had done. I tried,
among other plans, that of keeping certain pills and other medicines,
which I sold to my patients; but on the whole I found it better to send
all my prescriptions to one druggist, who charged the patient ten or
twenty cents over the correct price, and handed this amount to me.

In some cases I am told the percentage is supposed to be a donation on
the part of the apothecary; but I rather fancy the patient pays for
it in the end. It is one of the absurd vagaries of the profession to
discountenance the practice I have described, but I wish, for my part,
I had never done anything more foolish or more dangerous. Of course it
inclines a doctor to change his medicines a good deal, and to order