pretty little trifles upon the wall. A small
ornamental clock ticked in front of me, and the hands
pointed to half-past three. It was all quite familiar
to me, and yet I stared about for a moment in a half-
dazed way until my eyes fell upon a cabinet photograph
of myself upon the top of the piano. On the other side
stood one of Mrs. Marden. Then, of course, I
remembered where I was. It was Agatha's boudoir.

But how came I there, and what did I want? A horrible
sinking came to my heart. Had I been sent here on some
devilish errand? Had that errand already been done?
Surely it must; otherwise, why should I be allowed to
come back to consciousness? Oh, the agony of that
moment! What had I done? I sprang to my feet in my
despair, and as I did so a small glass bottle fell from
my knees on to the carpet.

It was unbroken, and I picked it up. Outside was
written "Sulphuric Acid. Fort." When I drew the round
glass stopper, a thick fume rose slowly up, and a
pungent, choking smell pervaded the room. I recognized
it as one which I kept for chemical testing in my
chambers. But why had I brought a bottle of vitriol
into Agatha's chamber? Was it not this thick, reeking
liquid with which jealous women had been known to mar
the beauty of their rivals? My heart stood still as I
held the bottle to the light. Thank God, it was full!
No mischief had been done as yet. But had Agatha come
in a minute sooner, was it not certain that the hellish