hy people in other respects are often sadly careless where poisons
are concerned."

She began trifling again with the bottles on the counter, and put
another question, with an ill-concealed anxiety to hear the answer.

"Is there danger," she asked, "in such a little drop of Laudanum as
that?"

"There is Death in it, miss," replied the chemist, quietly.

"Death to a child, or to a person in delicate health?"

"Death to the strongest man in England, let him be who he may."

With that answer, the chemist sealed up the bottle in its wrapping of
white paper and handed the laudanum to Magdalen across the counter. She
laughed as she took it from him, and paid for it.

"There will be no fear of accidents at North Shingles," she said. "I
shall keep the bottle locked up in my dressing-case. If it doesn't
relieve the pain, I must come to you again, and try some other remedy.
Good-morning."

"Good-morning, miss."

She went straight back to the house without once looking up, without
noticing any one who passed her. She brushed by Mrs. Wragge in the
passage as she might have brushed by a piece of furniture. She
ascended the stairs, and caught her foot twice in her dress, from sheer
inattention to the common precaution of holding it up. The trivial daily
interests of life had lost their hold on her already.

In the privacy of her own room, she took the bottle from its wrapping,
and threw the paper and the cotton wool into the fire-place. At the
moment when she did this there was a knock at the door. She hid the
little bottle, and looked up impatiently. Mrs. Wragge came into the
room.

"Have you got something for your toothache, my dear?"

"Yes."

"Can I do anything to help you?"

"No."

Mrs. Wragge still lingered uneasily near the door. Her manner showed
plainly that she had something more to say.

"What is it?" asked Magdalen, sharply.

"Don't be angry," said Mrs. Wragge. "I'm not settled in my mind about
the captain. He's a great writer, and he hasn't written. He's as quick
as lightning, and he hasn't come back. Here's Saturday, and no signs of
him. Has he run away, do you think? Has anything happened to him?"

"I should think not. Go downstairs; I'll come and speak to you about it
directly."

As soon as she was alone again, Magdalen rose from her chair, advanced
toward a cupboard in the room which locked, and paused for a moment,
with her hand on the key, in doubt. Mrs. Wragge's appearance had
disturbed th