of the club; the
pet of women; the admired of all the dolts and gawks who are taken with
his style, his easy laughter, and his knack at getting at men's hearts.
He won't laugh so easily when he's up before a jury for murder; and he'll
never again fool women or bulldoze men, even if they are weak enough to
acquit him of this crime. Enough of the smirch will stick to prevent
that. If it doesn't, I'll--"

Again his hands went out in the horribly suggestive way they had done at
his sister's funeral. The coroner sat appalled,--confused, almost
distracted between his doubts, his convictions, his sympathy for the man
and his recoil from the passions he would be only too ready to pardon if
he could feel quite sure of their real root and motive. Cumberland may
have felt the other's silence, or he may have realised the imprudence of
his own fury; for he dropped his hands with an impatient sigh, and
blurted out:

"But you haven't told me your discovery. It seems to me it is a little
late to make discoveries now."

"This was brought about by the persistence of Sweetwater. He seems to
have an instinct for things. He was leaning out of the window at the rear
of the clubhouse--the window of that small room where your sister's coat
was found--and he saw, caught in the vines beneath, a--"

"Why don't you speak out? I cannot tell what he found unless you name
it."

"A little bottle--an apothecary's phial. It was labelled 'Poison,' and it
came from this house."

Arthur Cumberland reeled; then he caught himself up and stood, staring,
with a very obvious intent of getting a grip on himself before he spoke.

The coroner waited, a slight flush deepening on his cheek.

"How do you know that phial came from this house?"

Dr. Perry looked up, astonished. He was prepared for the most frantic
ebullitions of wrath, for violence even; or for dull, stupid, blank
silence. But this calm, quiet questioning of fact took him by surprise.
He dropped his anxious look, and replied:

"It has been seen on the shelves by more than one of your servants. Your
sister kept it with her medicines, and the druggist with whom you deal
remembers selling it some time ago to a member of your family."

"Which member? I don't believe this story; I don't believe any of your--"
He was fast verging on violence now.

"You will have to, Arthur. Facts are facts, and we cannot go against
them. The person who bought it was yourself. Perhaps you can recall the
circum