By a considerable detour through a side street, he reached the store unperceived, and found the druggist rather disquieted himself.
"Are you staying at Burleigh's?" he asked.
"I am," Van Berg replied.
"Do you know a young lady boarding there with large dark eyes and auburn hair?"
"I do."
"Is there—is there anything wrong about her?"
"Why should there be? Why do you ask?"
"She has just been in here, and she looked sick and strangely, and all she wanted was a large phial of laudanum. Somehow her looks and purchase have made me uneasy. I never saw so white a face in my life, and she seemed weak and very tired. If she's sick, how comes it she's walking to the village? Besides, she seemed to have very little to do with the party she joined after leaving here."
Van Berg controlled himself only by a powerful effort, and was very glad that the brim of his soft hat concealed the pallor of his own face. He managed to say quietly:
"The young lady you describe has not been well, and has probably found the walk longer and more wearisome than she supposed. As for the laudanum, that's used in many ways. Some cigars, if you please—thank you. I'll join the lady and see that she reaches home safely," and he hastily left the store and walked swiftly away.