f me; I am only a woman; I have no influence
over him," she said sadly, and shook her head.

"What is his age?"

"He is forty-seven."

Mahony had put him down for at least ten years older, and said so. But
the lady was not listening: she fidgeted with her lace-edged
handkerchief, looked uneasy, seemed to be in debate with herself.
Finally she said aloud: "Yes, I will." And to him: "Doctor, would you
come with me a moment?"

This time she conducted him to a well-appointed bedchamber, off which
gave a smaller room, containing a little four-poster draped in dimity.
With a vague gesture in the direction of the bed, she sank on a chair
beside the door.

Drawing the curtains Mahony discovered a fair-haired boy of some eight
or nine years old. He lay with his head far back, his mouth wide
open--apparently fast asleep.

But the doctor's eye was quick to see that it was no natural sleep.
"Good God! who is responsible for this?"

Mrs. Glendinning held her handkerchief to her face. "I have never told
any one before," she wept. "The shame of it, doctor ... is more than I
can bear."

"Who is the blackguard? Come, answer me, if you please!"

"Oh, doctor, don't scold me... I am so unhappy." The pretty face
puckered and creased; the full bosom heaved. "He is all I have. And
such a bright, clever little fellow! You will cure him for me, won't
you?"

"How often has it happened?"

"I don't know ... about five or six times, I think ... perhaps more.
There's a place not far from here where he can get it ... an old
hut-cook my husband dismissed once, in a fit of temper--he has oh such
a temper! Eddy saddles his pony and rides out there, if he's not
watched; and then ... then, they bring him back ... like this."

"But who supplies him with money?"

"Money? Oh, but doctor, he can't be kept without pocket-money! He has
always had as much as he wanted.--No, it is all my husband's
doing,"--and now she broke out in one of those shameless confessions,
from which the medical adviser is never safe. "He hates me; he is only
happy if he can hurt me and humiliate me. I don't care what becomes of
him. The sooner he dies the better!"

"Compose yourself, my dear lady. Later you may regret such hasty
words.--And what has this to do with the child? Come, speak out. It
will be a relief to you to tell me."

"You are so kind, doctor," she sobbed, and drank, with hysterical
gurglings, the glass of water Mahony poured out for her. "Yes, I wil