“It will be company for us both,” she said, and hurriedly gathering together her work, she left the little room, and entered the kitchen to find all dark.
“Martha—Martha!” she cried, but there was no reply, and hurrying back for a lamp, she found that the candle had burned out, the tea things were still on the table, and the woman was seated there with her head down upon her hands, apparently fast asleep.
“Martha!” she cried, shaking her; but there was no reply, only a heavy stertorous breath, and as the old chill came back, Dinah’s eyes lit upon the cup and saucer by the woman’s side.
A flash of light illumined her brain, and instinctively she raised the tea-cup, and smelt, and then tasted the tea at the bottom.
It was unmistakable. A peculiar, heavy, clammy taste was evident. The cup fell from her hand, and she looked wildly round, as her position came with tenfold horror. Alone there in that solitary dale, far from help. Even her old friend the dog taken from her side—quite alone, for Martha was beyond rousing for hours to come, plunged as she was in a deep stupor, the result of a drug.
Chapter Twenty Five.
Another Pigeon Plucked.
“Major Gurdon? Show him in.”