hlet. Giving a glance at one of the open ends, Mr.
Farmiloe saw handwriting within, and his hostility to the woman found vent
in a sharp remark.

'There's a written communication in this. It will be letter rate.'

The lady eyed him with terrible scorn.

'You will oblige me by minding your own business. Your remark is the merest
impertinence. That packet consists of MS., and will, therefore, go at book
rate. Be so good as to weigh it at once.'

Mr. Farmiloe lost all control of himself, and well-nigh screamed.

'No, madam, I will _not_ weigh it. And let me inform you, as you are so
ignorant, that to weigh packets is not part of my duty. I do it merely to
oblige civil persons, and you, madam, are not one of them.'

The lady instantly turned and withdrew.

'Damn the post-office!' yelled Mr. Farmiloe, alone with his errand-boy, and
shaking his fist in the air. 'This very day I write to give it up. I
say--_damn_ the post-office.'

He returned to his dispensing, completed it, wrapped up the bottle in the
customary manner, and despatched the boy to the house.

Five minutes later a thought flashed through his mind which put him in a
cold sweat. He happened to glance along the shelf from which he had taken
the bottle containing the last ingredient of the mixture, and it struck
him, with all the force of a horrible doubt, that he had made a mistake. In
the irate confusion of his thoughts, he had done the dispensing almost
mechanically. The bottle he ought to have taken down was _that_, but had he
not actually poured from that other? Of poisoning there was no fear, but,
if indeed he had made a slip, the result would be a very extraordinary
mixture; so surprising, in fact, that the patient would be sure to speak to
Dr. Bunker about it. Good heavens! He felt sure he had made the mistake.

Any other man would have taken down the two bottles in question, and have
examined the mouths of them for traces of moisture. Mr. Farmiloe, a victim
of destiny, could do nothing so reasonable. Heedless of the fact that his
shop remained unguarded, he seized his hat and rushed after the errand-boy.
If he could only have a sniff at the mixture it would either confirm his
fear or set his mind at rest. He tore along the road--and was too late. The
boy met him, having just completed his errand.

With a wild curse he sped to the house, he rushed to the tradesman's door.
The medicine just delivered! He must examine it--he feared there was a
mist