startled me. "Dr. Bauerstein was saying yesterday that, owing to
the general ignorance of the more uncommon poisons among the
medical profession, there were probably countless cases of
poisoning quite unsuspected."

"Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation!" cried Mrs. Inglethorp.
"It makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh,
there's Cynthia!"

A young girl in V. A. D. uniform ran lightly across the lawn.

"Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is Mr. Hastings--Miss
Murdoch."

Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life
and vigour. She tossed off her little V. A. D. cap, and I
admired the great loose waves of her auburn hair, and the
smallness and whiteness of the hand she held out to claim her
tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she would have been a beauty.

She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed
her a plate of sandwiches she smiled up at me.

"Sit down here on the grass, do. It's ever so much nicer."

I dropped down obediently.

"You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss Murdoch?"

She nodded.