said, "and I'll do it."

He opened the door without knocking, without stopping to listen outside.
Not a creature was in the room.

In another moment the fatal dose of "Alexander's Wine," which he
innocently believed to be a beneficent remedy, was in his possession.

As he put it into the breast-pocket of his coat, the wooden chest caught
his eye. He reached it down and tried the lid. The lid opened in his
hand, and disclosed the compartments and the bottles placed in them. One
of the bottles rose higher by an inch or two than any of the others. He
drew that one out first to look at it, and discovered--the "blue-glass
bottle."

From that moment all idea of trying the effect on Mrs. Wagner of the
treacherous "remedy" in his pocket vanished from his mind. He had secured
the inestimable treasure, known to him by his own experience. Here was
the heavenly bottle that had poured life down his throat, when he lay
dying at Wurzburg! This was the true and only doctor who had saved Mr.
Keller's life, when the poor helpless fools about his bed had given him
up for lost! The Mistress, the dear Mistress, was as good as cured
already. Not a drop more of her precious blood should be shed by the
miscreant, who had opened his knife and wounded her. Oh, of all the
colors in the world, there's no color like blue! Of all the friends in
the world, there never was such a good friend as this! He kissed and
hugged the bottle as if it had been a living thing. He jumped up and
danced about the room with it in his arms. Ha! what music there was in
the inner gurgling and splashing of the shaken liquid, which told him
that there was still some left for the Mistress! The striking of the
clock on the mantelpiece sobered him at the height of his ecstasy. It
told him that time was passing. Minute by minute, Death might be getting
nearer and nearer to her; and there he was, with Life in his possession,
wasting the time, far from her bedside.

On his way to the door, he stopped. His eyes turned slowly towards the
inner part of the room. They rested on the open cupboard--and then they
looked at the wooden chest, left on the floor.

Suppose the housekeeper should return, and see the key in the cupboard,
and the chest with one of the bottles missing?

His only counselor at that critical moment was his cunning; stimulated
into action by the closely related motive powers of his inbred vanity,
and his devotion to the benefactress whom he loved.

The c