“I told you to remain in bed,” retorted Mrs. Burnham in marked displeasure. “Remember, your promise——”
“Oh, mother, don’t argue,” gasped Evelyn. “I really think I am going to faint.”
“Tut, nonsense!” responded Mrs. Burnham; she had small sympathy with hysterics, and Evelyn seemed on the verge of indulging in them. She raised her voice as footsteps stopped outside the door: “Who’s there?”
“Me, ma’am, Jones,” replied the butler, holding the door ajar. “Coroner Penfield to see Miss Evelyn.”
A faint “Oh!” from the bed reached Mrs. Burnham and her hesitation vanished.
“Tell the coroner we will see him shortly, Jones; show him into the library; he has the key, I believe,” and as the butler closed the door she approached the bed and handed Evelyn a glass of water. “Drink some of that, dear,” she said more sympathetically. “I will bring you some ammonia; lie down until I return.”
Not waiting to see her directions carried out, Mrs. Burnham went at once to her dressing room and unlocked her medicine cabinet. The bottle she sought was not in front, and in moving some of the phials to see the better she was confronted with a small blue bottle bearing the ominous red sign “POISON”, and the label:
Acid Hydrocynan dil
Dose 1-3 minims
The bottle drew her hand as the North Pole attracts the magnet. Holding it up to the light she tipped the bottle and the small amount of hydrocyanic acid remaining in it showed plainly. She hesitated a long moment, then secreted the bottle in her hand-bag. Spotting the ammonia after a second search she hastened back to Evelyn and gave her a small dose.
“Do you feel equal to seeing the coroner?” she asked.