“But the child for whom it was meant,” said Dick, his suspicions returning in a flash, “required a strong stimulant immediately.”
The chemist shrugged his shoulders.
“I am not prepared to enter into that question,” he answered. “This prescription is harmless—a little sal volatile, a small dose of digitalis, etc., etc.”
“Thank you,” replied Dick.
“I am a fool for my pains,” he said to himself. “Tarbot is an honest man, and the child died from natural causes. I am a fool for my pains.”
He rushed home and burst into the room where Barbara was sitting. His face was now like sunshine.
“You will have no cause to be miserable again,” he said. “I have taken your advice. My suspicions have vanished into thin air.”
“Thank God for His mercy!” said the young wife.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE LITTLE WOMAN IN BLACK.
About a fortnight after the Pelhams had taken up their residence at Pelham Towers a little old woman might have been seen making her way slowly up the avenue. From the lodge gates to the mansion was a distance of nearly two miles. The little woman as she walked kept muttering to herself.