ing at the bar. But her
present danger helped her to regain her self-command; all at once she
was no longer at a loss for a lie.

"There were twelve powders in it," she asserted boldly. "I've used the
half--more than the half."

"Really?" He shook his head doubtfully. "Twelve powders, really?"

How strangely he said that. She cast a hasty glance at his face in the
hope of being able to read his thoughts. But it was as red and fat as
always, perhaps even a little redder. It told her nothing.

She turned to go, full of desperate defiance. Let him think what he
liked then; it was all the same to her. She saw him go to the old
bureau that stood close to the bed-curtains, in which he kept his money
and papers, and then she closed the door with a bang.

Mr. Tiralla remained alone in the room. He was standing near his
bureau; he had let the box fall, and [Pg 175] it was lying on the dusty
flap that he had just drawn out. He looked down at it, and there was a
peculiar, uneasy expression on his face, which had never been there
before. He passed his hand over his forehead; it was damp. Had that
been caused by fear? What absurd nonsense it was to think such things.
His Sophia, his dear Sophia! The poor thing was ill, that was all. Who
can understand women who suffer from nerves? Nerves are very bad
things, very bad. You never know what to expect.

"Nerves, ah, nerves," he murmured, and stared in front of him. Then he
took hold of the box once more, but he did not open it. His dread of
the poisonous powders was even greater now than when he had brought
them into the house. He turned the box round and round, and then shook
it. Would it not be best to throw the horrid things on the fire? Let
them burn.

But he did not take the box into the kitchen after all, where Marianna
was keeping up a flaring wood fire in order to make the coffee. Later
on--to-morrow--when Mikolai had come home--then--then he would burn
them. They would be well hidden here in the little drawer where he kept
his most important papers, his deeds of mortgage from Posen and other
securities, the testimonial he had received on leaving the Agricultural
College, his first wife's "In Memoriam" card, and his second wife's
marriage certificate. So he pushed the box under them all, locked the
drawer, tried carefully to see whether the lock were secure, and put
the key on the same bunch with the others which he always carried in
his trouser pocket.

There, now tha