It was the dying agony, he believed.
She seemed beyond help; a few minutes would see her silent in death. It was well. Turning his back upon the scene he strode from the room, and from the house.
Scarcely had he departed when two persons ran up the steps, tried the door and found it yield to their touch.
"It may be too late, doctor, but I hope not."
When the two men entered the room we recognize one of them as Hiram Shanks, the peddler, although he is now neatly clad, and not so repulsive to look upon as formerly.
"Too late!" exclaimed Shanks' companion, as he bent over Mrs. Barkswell.
"The woman is dead!"
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FACE TO FACE.
"Dead! No, no, it must not be," cried the peddler, in an excited tone.
The doctor felt the woman's pulse.