Mrs. Braithwaite seemed frightened; not at all pitiful; and as I calmed down she recovered her courage and became insolent. I had spoilt her night. She had not been told she was to take in a raving lunatic. She would speak to Squire Rattray in the morning.
“Morning?” I yelled after her as she went. “Send your husband to the nearest chemist as soon as it’s dawn; send him for chloral, chloroform, morphia, anything they’ve got and as much of it as they’ll let him have. I’ll give you five pounds if
I’ll stick in mine,” said I impulsively, “and I’ll come with you, and doss down in any corner for the night.”
He stopped and turned on the stairs.
“You mustn’t do that,” said he; “they won’t have anything ready. I’m going to make it my privilege to see that everything is as cosey as possible when