you put it like that o' course,' she said, her fingers
closing over the note, 'I'm not the one to refuse good money. I'm
willin' to do all I can to make you an' Miss Marryun happy.' With a
broad grin she sidled out of the room.

As for me, I gathered up the fragments of my pipe and departed. I no
longer wished to talk to Henry just then. I wanted to be alone to
think, to consider my strategic position. I must go away to some
remote place, perhaps not Tibet, but at any rate a quiet spot in the
country fully twenty miles out of London. Before going, however, I
must in some way show Miss Warrington the utter folly of her illusions
regarding my unfortunate self. Nothing must be left undone to achieve
that object.

Alas, what troubles, what unending anxiety a woman can cause a man!
After getting over this difficulty, I swear I will not even converse
with any one of them again. In the meantime I must invoke the aid of
this wretched girl Elizabeth. _Necessitas non habet legem_. Elizabeth
is that most irritating necessity.

CHAPTER VIII

Elizabeth often speaks of the time when she poisoned The Kid. She says
she never had such a 'turn' in all her life, and wouldn't go through
such an experience again for all the money in the world. Neither,
indeed, would I, or Henry, or Marion. Looking back on the matter, I
don't think The Kid cared for it either.

It was a peaceful summer evening. The Kid had just gone to bed and
we--Henry, Marion and I--had foregathered in the study. Marion spends
most of her time with us, being one of those delightfully restful
persons who doesn't need to be 'entertained,' who doesn't talk to you
if you want to do a little writing at meal times, and is altogether a
desirable visitor. Thus, at the moment of which I write, we sat in
perfect amity and silence, Henry working, I working, while every time I
looked up my eyes fell on the gratifying vision of dear Marion making a
blouse for me. Suddenly the door opened and Elizabeth entered.

'That there medicine you told me to give Miss Moira,' she said. 'I
just been looking at it and I see it's got your name on the bottle.'
She held it out to me as she spoke.

'Why is The Kid taking medicine?' inquired Marion.

'It's only a little tonic the doctor prescribed. But,' I stared at the
bottle Elizabeth had brought in, 'this is my medicine. The chemist
must have mixed up the prescriptions when I took them to him.'
Suddenly I sprang to