SISTER SENCILLA.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5668, 12 September 1896, Page 1

SISTER SENCILLA.

_____ i [By Abthub Gkifpiths.] {Pall Hall Magazine.) I was one of the senior students at St Gundulph's when Sencilla Midhurst entered the nursing Sisterhood. ' I can see her now, as she was then — a dark Spanish beauty, marvellously attractive .in the gr-ey-and-white nun-like garb which was the nurse's uniform — tall, slim, with an olive skin of waxen clearness, great brown beseeching eyes, and a rather shy, shrinking manner, which appealed irresistibly to all our hearts. She was as artless as her name, for "Sencilla" is the Spanish foi simple and unsophisticated; and it was curiously appropriate to her as she seemed to us in those impressionable days. They said that, although stil] quite young, she had known greai trouble. A lady born and bred, buf now an orphan, friendless, penniless, she had adopted nursing as a means of livelihood in the first place, but also because she had a liking for the work. ' It proved, indeed, her true vocation. She w&s naturally gifted for it: being endowed with the gentle noiseless tread, the deft fingers, the light magical touch which is so often an anodyne to pain, the low sweet voice that soothed while it sympathised with suffering. Then she was so brave: nothing shocked her ; she never weakened even at the worst phases of her often gruesome duties ; and she learnt it all so quickly — not merely the daily routine, the needful services, but the reasons of things ;• she became clever at diagnosis, could upon occasion treat simple cases herself, and had picked up a fair knowledge of drugs and their uses. We all admired Sister Sencilla. Some of us fell deperately in love with. her. I am not ashamed to confess that I was "farther gone" than most. It was my first boyish passion ; as such very strong and absorbing, but as such, too, evanescent. At least, so I thought it, until I came across her again years afterwards. Meanwhile I had drifted far away ; I had accepted a comnS^sion in the Army Medical Department, which had taken me to India, where I remained most of the time. Single always— not quite, perhaps, for Sencilla's sake, for the lapse of years had rather obscured her sweet memory— l still thought of her as the nicest and most lovable of women. I heard nothing of her in the interval, except that she had married one of our most rising men at St Gundulph's, Charlie Madan ; but he had died prematurely under very distressing circumstances. My next meeting with Mrs Madan— Si§ter Sencilla, as she must always have been to me — was entirely by accident, the merest freak of chance. It was at Mouchy-les-Bains a remote, little - frequented, French-Swiss watering place. I had taken my seat the first morning at the mid-day table d'h6te of the one hotel, when two ladies entered: one was elderly, Avhite-faced, anaemic, infirm — obviously an invalid ; the other, who waited on her with pretty, tender devotion, was Sencilla, Sister Sencilla, of the old St Gundulph days. She was but little changed: the same dark, clear, nearly colourless complexion, the same dark lustrous eyes, the same abundant raven hair. I knew her instantly, noting as of old her straight, supple figure, its former slimness a little amplified, but improved to more statuesque proportions; the smooth, swimming gait. Spanish in character, like her beauty, as she floated gracefully to her seat. A strikingly handsome woman still ; and, as my heart gave a great jump at sight of her, I realised that to me she was as attractive as ever. Had she seen and recognised me ? For a long time I tried to catch her eye, but in vain. When at length, by sheer persistence of gaze, I compelled her to look at me, she would not return my bow ; and although our eyes met for one moment, she dropped hers instantly : only a faint blush rose to her dark cheek, and I thought I noted a slight tremor pass over her shapely shoulders. It was as though the sight of me evoked painful reminiscences which she wished to shut out, and with them the person who had brought them back to her mind. I was by no means content to be put off in this fashion, but was resolved to claim acquaintance, and did so after luncheon, The two ladies left, as they had come in, together ; the elder — she was Lady Ardstraw, as I afterwards learnt — leaning on Sencilla's arm, and, so conducted, she was soon made comfortable on a couch upon the sunny terrace. I watched admiringly as Sencilla waited on her hand and foot, bringing shawls and wraps, giving her scent-bottle, novel, fan, attending to all her wants with the gentle assiduity of the practised nurse mingled with the devotion of the affectionate friend. " Surely you remember me P" I said, when Sencilla had taken a seat a little apart, but within easy call. ■ "0 yes, of course, you are Dr Fawcet," she answered coldly, without noticing or taking my outstretched hand. "You are still nursing ? I thought — I thought — " " I must do so. It is my living." "But you were married: did not your husband — pardon me, I am perhaps intruding — leave some provision ?". " No. ' He died suddenly, terribly : surely you heard?" She spoke with great selfcommand, but her lip quivered and her great eyes were brimming over with tears. Madan had committed suicide ; a very shocking and, as I vaguely understood, quite inexplicable tragedy. " Forgive mo, it was very thoughtless of me: I have given you pain/ I began. But she stopped me with strange abruptness, and asked — "What are you doing now? What brings you here, of all places ?" It seemed as though my presence was trawelcome to her, What could I say? That it was mere chance; tliat I had never hoped to find her at Jtouchy, but that I was glad, very glad to see her once more. • She did not seem to understand me. I wanted but a word, one encouraging' look, and I -would have said much more. This meeting, so fortuitous yet so welcome, had been like the lifting of a curtain, affording a glimpse of a lost past that might be found again in the future. But she did not help me; I' feared that if I wished to pick up the threads of our old romance, and piece them together, I need hope for no assistance from her. Her manner, so reserved, so chilling, vexed, but did not repel or restrain me. On the contrary, it piqued me into further endeavour. She attracted me so strongly that I could not easily accept rebuff; I found excuses for her — the old shyness, her present dependent condition, loyalty to the dead, anything rather than that I was not to her fancy, that she coold.not care- for.

me. Theiv were times when I still dared to hope, when I caught and interpreted to my own inward satisfaction the furtive. glances of her magnificent eyes fixed upon me from a distance with an inscrutable, but to me intoxicating, all-enveloping gaz». But for these vague, intangible hopes, I should have soon abandoned the field. So. I held my ground, and was presently rewarded, strangely, unexpectedly, quite beyond my hopes. I had to thank pooE Lady Ardstraw for this. One day, as I was returning from a distant excursion, and approached the hotel by one path, I saw Sencilla leaving it by another. For once she had torn herself away from Lady Ardstraw, on whom she ever lavished the most unremitting attention. She was bound to have Borne exercise, and now the small open basket she carried told me the object of her walk. Eyery field and hedgerow was bright with, blossoms, the grass was carpeted with the lilac cups of the meadow saffron, and in every shady spot the purple bells of the tall foxglove stood erect. She was bent on gathering flowers. Should I join her ? I was sorely tempted to ofEer my companionship, , but my heart failed me, and I let her go< on alone. I did more thereby to favour my suit than if I had enjoyed a long Ule-oL-iete. Out upon the hotel terrace I found JLady Ardstraw in her favourite corner, and:as. J passed near her couch the poor woman looked up at me with the appealing, yearning gaze of the lonely invalid who asks eloquently, but silently, for a word of solace, comfort or advice. I spoke to her kindly, compassionately; and after a few commonplaces she embarked at once upon the story of her ailments, after the manner of invalids. "I get no better," she sighed hopelessly. "The doctors can do nothing for me. Sencilla calls this Swiss man, Lavoisie, clever. I think he's a fool; at least, he gives me nothing. Oh, Dr Fawcett, do be kind ; let me consult you ! You are of the new school — an Englishman." I muttered something about professional etiquette, that I was not in general practice — only a military doctor. I tried all sorts of excuses. But when I saw* her poor white face fall, when I noted the plain - indications of constant suffering, the pinched cheek, hollow eyes, the wasted, emaciated form, I felt that it was sheer cruelty not to listen to her. It took' heir a long time to tell me all her symptoms, but I listened patiently till the end, and then promised all the help I could. I felt very helpless, an awful humbug, all the time. What could Ido for her ? I seemed to read death written largely on her face, and I more than feared that she was already in the relentless fangs of malignant disease. While we still talked together Sencilla had approached us noiselessly, and stood over us. She made no sign until I looked up and saw her there, silent but observant, her beautiful dark face inscrutable as ever, but the great eyes seemed to look down straight into my very soul. Then, still without speaking, she made a little signal with her head — a slight, almost imperceptible nod, which I thought 1 under? stood. It was at once depecatory, yet friendly,- warning, yet full of conciliation. When, later in the day, she came up and spoke -to me of her own accord— a most unusual thing with her — she expressed her deep gratitude for my kindness to her dear friend, but hoped I would not let Lady Ardstraw speak to gne of her illness again. % • "Itis so bad for her, Doctor ; she grows so excited over it, and then the reaction is dreadful." ' " I could not refuse to listen to her, and I tried my best to comfort her a little." S,encilla shook her head sorrowfully) and a shadow of infinite sadness crossed, her beautiful face. "There's no hope for her— none," she said, with half a sob. "Malignant?" "Yes. Braxton Hicks saw her before she left England, and Dr Lavoisie here confirms it." "Has he verified it by examination? Everything has been done, I suppose P Yet some of her symptoms are unusual, I think : the pains might be mitigated, perhaps; the intense thirst, the frequent sickness, the increasing weakness and continued depression— l do not associate these with malignant disease. I should like to have a talk, if you will let me, with Dr Lavoisie. I am not altogether satisfied, I confess." . ' Sencilla flashed one look at me, a strange lambent light playing for a second , in tie deep of her unfathomable eyes; but while I still wondered, they melted into marvellous sweetness, and thrilled through and through me with such infinite tenderness that I began to hope she was not entirely indifferent to me after all. "Forgive me," she murmured, in a low, impressive voice. " I fancied, just for one moment, that you distrusted me. I could not bear it to be thought that I am not doing all that is possible for my poor darling. Yes, do see Dr Lavoisie. It will be a comfort to me, and dear Lady Adstraw will like it. Shall I tell him — tomorrow ?" "By all means," I answered. "The sooner the better." "Yes,". she said, echoing my words, but thinking beyond them of something deeper and more dreadful. "The sooner the better ; for I seem to see a great change coming over her— rapidly, too. I fear, I fear •" "The end? Is it so near at hand ? It' will be inexpressibly trying for you, Sencilla." I used the old name now for the first time. " What is my part to hers, poor suffering darling. It is too awful to contemplate. I shudder when I think of all she will have to endure." " You mean to stay here, at Mouchy, till the last F " O yes ; we have become accustomed to the place. If— if she sr. ould last till the autumn — we must move down somewhere ; I have not thought of it yet." ' " I may stay here too, may I not P" I ventured to say, encouraged by the new and still surprising kindliness of her voice. It was more than kindly, indeed ; there was a caressing note in its tender trustfulness that filled me with happiness. " I shall be glad indeed if you will : it will be a comfort, a great support to me." Her voice faltered ; the brilliancy of the great brown eyes softened as they rested sweetly on mine. " Sencilla, oh, Sencilla !"I cried. And with a sudden uncontrollable impulse I put out my hand to meet hers, soft, warm, yielding, responsive, as she left it shyly trat unquestioningly in my strong grasp. "My dear, dear friend !" she whispered. And then I knew that I had won her. A marvellous change indeed since thefc morning 1 Onlvi— A— figsL^hflii^.^taAji^^fc>—

this incalculable- difference. In-fchat short space of time, as I told myself with joyous elation, I had conquered ; I had got down to the true woman, to the heart of pure unalloyed gold. It was as though, in the near presence of this impending tragedy, the dross had been all burned off, and onr love, the virgin metal, alone remained. I saw Seneilla no more that day. It was already the late afternoon, and she was busy ministering to her charge upstairs. She would be at the evening table d'hote., and I might gaze on her then a few feet from her; but I feared to betray our secret — it. was of course to remain a secret': under the painful circumstances in Lady Ardstraw's sad condition anything else would have been an ontrage — by the tell-tale gladness of my face. So I spent the rest of the day upon the mountain side, and did not return till late, when I ate a hurried dinner in the restaurant, and went out with a beating heart to wait for her qn the deserted terrace. She had promised to come down to me as soon as she had made Lady Ardstraw comfortable for the night. Of course she came, and filled to overflowing the cup of my new-found happiness. We sat a little beyond the terrace lights, under the silent stars, and still talked and talked far into the night. There was so much to say — old memories to revive, future plans to arrange — and always the abiding, blissful present, with the repetition of our unchanging vows. We discussed projects, drew pictures of what our life should be : should I return to India, retire, buy an English practice ? •And then, with pretty diffidence, she told me that she did not expect to come to me empty-handed. ■ . *' It is not a thing to talk about ; but to you it is different. I can have no secrets from you. My poor darling has told me, has said"— she faltered— " you see she is very, very rich; and she has promised that I shall not be forgotten when she has gone." The effort was too much for her, and her voice' shook till it ended in a sob, with which she struggled bravely ; and, recovering at last, cried, with a show of cheerfulness, "Let us talk of. something else, darling. I cannot. stay much longer. This is a moment to enjoy; it will soon be gone." And as she spoke she took out a small cigarette case, and offered me one. \\ ... " Are.you very much shocked ? Ilearnt to do it 1 when I was nursing a very distressing case. I hope you do not mind." Nothing she did could be otherwise than lovely to me just then. Besides, I was indulgent with regard to tobacco, I smoked so much myself. . Indulgent, but fastidious ; and I soon found that I did not like her • cigarette. The tobacco, the flavour or something, was not at all to my taste; but I did not tell Sencilla, fearing to hurt her feelings, and smoked on, I suppose, about a third. Then I cunningly dropped ;it, and, unobserved by her, substituted one of my own. - These may seem trifling details, but they have an important bearing on what is to come. The time sped on swift golden wings; and soon, all too soon, Sencilla, jumped up, ( threw away the stump of her cigarette, and' prepared to say good-night. "Yes, darling — yes, indeed I must go. Think, Lady Ardstraw is all alone; she may have wanted me. Indeed,— indeed ! " she said, protesting, as I held both her hands and sought to detain her. " God bless you, my own sweet, and be as good- to me as you have been to her ! " I cried solemnly, as I threw my arms around her, and, drawing her face to mine, our lips met in one long, rapturous kiss. It was our first and our last. Never shall I forget its ravishing, intoxicating sweetness ; I felt in that moment of ecstasy that our love had found its earthly close. Then she left me, vanishing swift and light-footed into the shade of the hotel; and I sank back into my chair, feeling suddenly dazed, as though all the light and joy of my life had gone. I sat there I cannot say how long, in a sort of blissful trance, cherishing my newfound happiness as in a ravishing dream. Then, almost mechanically, I put out my j hand, took up the tumbler which was on the table by my side, and drank off the remainder of some cooling fluid, the flavour of which was somewhat strange and peculiar, but of what character I was quite unable to consider. .The dazed feeling was increasing on me fast, and all at once I was seized with a sudden giddiness, a sharp, unconquerable sensation of languor and loss of power, and the next instant I fell heavily in a dead faint upon the marble flags of the terrace. When next I recovered consciousness I was in my own bedroom, lying on my bed, still dressed, and not alone. There was a candle burning, and by its glimmering light I saw Rudolf, the hotel porter, a man of polyglot attainments and universal usefulness, watching by my bedside. I tried to rise, but felt so prostrate, so immovable, that I might have been chained and weighted down; I tried to speak, but could do no more at first than mouth out a few inarticulate sounds. Then Rudolf, seeing I was recovering, approached me, saying, with rather a roguish air, as though there was some joke between vs — "You are better, sir, now? It is passing off, then ? But you still feel souffrant, sick, seedy, hem? That is always after — after mooch drinks." He implied that I was recovering from a debauch; and, although my conscience was- clear, so far as my poor memory, my dazed and dumbfounded faculties served, I felt all the torments of the awakened drunkard — the parched throat, the swollen tongue, the racking pains across the brow, the leaden heaviness, the utter prostration and helplessness of body and mind. But when I had been thus overcome, or how, I had not the faintest recollection. A great black barrier stood like an impenetrable wall between me and the immediate past. " How, when, where did you find me ?" I gasped. " It was joost as the house was closed up. You were upon the stones lying flat ; you had it bad, Monsieur — you were diailement soul. We called the Directeur, M. Jules, and he saw how it was with you. Monsieur had been making the noce." ".Was I insensible ?" " Only at first. Monsieur recovered just a little, and acted so strange, so funny ; I am much ashamed, but you made us laugh, and laugh, and " He hesitated, with a nice feeling of decorum. " Tell me— tell me !" I insisted. "Well, sir, you was very foolish, quite silly, you had it so bad : you roared and you cried, you laughed and danced, and you snapped at us with your fingers, and you plucked at our clothes, and you thought peoples was coming at you while they, was still far. away. Then you staggered bad and rolled ; and all at once you fell flat, fast asleep and snored." f remembered nothing, absolutely nothing, of all this. What could it mean ? ; What had happened to me ? What had I : taken? Some drug, something noxious, something * * * ? " What time is it ? Midnight ?" I asked, with sudden animation. I -wanted to hear no more about my strange antics, for my mind iras regaining its balance; lit grew clear, and suddenly active as a •vivid flash of intelligence crossed it, irradiating what had been till then so dark and mysterious. But, alas! it was as Bwiftly overtaken by a wave of recurring stupor; then came a cold, sickening sensation, a spasm of acute suffering, for I saw plainly that, if my conjectures were correct, I must suffer shipwreck in my dearest hopes. Sencilla had betrayed me ! "Listen," I whispered, feebly at first, but gathering strength as my purpose was jnare and more clearly unfolded. "It is past midnight you say; The hotel is closed; all is quiet, no one about. I want 'you to go down to the terrace j you shall have an ample pourboire — a hundred, two hundred francs— if you succeed : bo down and Beaxch about just where you found me. Stay— have you matches? £es? Then seszefa theground closely, and -. You; triH find tibe~ end of a cigarette half-

straight here. Let no- one see you, and do not say a word to a soul." Rudolf looked at me anxiously, a little doubtfully at first. I saw that he still thought me strange, "funny," still not completely sobered, and that it might not be wise to leave me alone. " Bonne aubaine !" I heard him mutter to himself. "A hundred francs for the end of a cigarette! Why not? He will lie thero all the time, and I shall not be long ; way " So he hurried off and left me to my thoughts. They were bitter' enough ; but in the exaltation of mind caused by my recent painful experience, and still moro by my eagerness to prove the sovmdness of my conclusions, I suffered less than I otherwise should from the horror of what I was now sure had occurred. Now further evidence offered, unsolicited, but quite unequivocal and overwhelming 1 . Rudolf had not left me more than a minute or two when he or someone else entered my room. I thought at first that he had returned, but it was not his or any man's footstep ; there was no sound of footfall, only the gliding movement of a noiseless figure, betrayed by no more than the swish, tho rustle or frou-fro u of a woman's drapery. It was Sencilla. She must have been on the watch close at hand, and had promptly seized the chance of visiting me afforded by the temporary absence of the porter. She came straight to my bedside, drew aside the curtains gently, and looked down at me for a few seconds with calm, cold scrutiny. There was not a sign of agitation about her ; she was perfectly self-possessed, all her movements were pat and precise, without tremor or hesitation. After the first glance,,- she passed quickly towards the burning candle, and brought it back with her to make a closer inspection. From the moment I realised that it wa3 she in person', I had chosen my part, and was resolved to play it out unfalteringly to the best of my ability. She found me still lying motionless, quite comatose, and to all appearance insensible. With a swift, deft, action she unbuttoned my waistcoat and inserted her hand within my breast,. and I felt its cool, light, critical touch upon my heart. "He is still alive." I heard her hiss the words out with savage dissappointinent in her tone. "He must be strong, very.strong. What if he recovers ? It was not enough, perhaps. I must assist nature." She spoke with unruffled composure. I was only a " case" for treatment; I was not her lover — neither love nor hate weighed with her just then — but a patient, to be assisted not towards health, but across the narrowing chasm that alone stood between me and the silent shore. I was mentally conscious all through this, but helpless, powei*less to move hand or foot ; for the poison in its ebb and flow must have reasserted its noxious influence, and left me entirely at her mercy. But I could see distinctly, and as plainly realise, with acute but speechless horror, that she held a small instrument-case in her hand, and took from it a hypodermic syringe. In another minute the additional dose that would prove conclusive would have been administered, but she paused suddenly, spell-bound. It was dangerous evidently to linger. There was a distant sound as of a closing door — Rudolf returning — and she decided to leave me at once. "It was surely enough. At anyrate, I can come again," she muttered. And then, with the same gliding, noiseless step, she replaced the light and left the room. Almost instantly; when relieved from the incubus of her hateful presence, I partially recovered myself; and when Rudolf arrived I was able to rise and clamber. down from the bed. He had brought me two bits of 'cigarette — not only the half -burned piece of the one I had smoked partially and thrown away, but the butt end of another almost entirely consumed. The latter was probably that which Sencilla had smoked, and I "put it tentatively to my lips. There was just enough to afford a few whiffs, so I lighted it and smoked it deliberately and critically. It was Turkish tobacco— good, fine even, but not of an kind, certainly without the distinctive, and to me unpleasant taste of the cigarette which I had discarded. Then I took the other, of which I had smoked but little ; and directly I tasted it — yet I did no more than insert it between my lips — I recognised the flavour which had caused me to reject it originally. It was now quite strong and pronounced — a bitter, acrid, disagreeable flavour, easily and immediately perceptible. I can only account for my nicer discrimination on this second tasting by the fact that I was really looking for what I found. Moreover, I' was no longer under the glamour of a dangerous siren, whose bewitching companionship dwarfed all other sensations. I knew now what had happened, exactly and beyond all question. I had been poisoned, deliberately and intentionally, as the difference between the two cigarettes plainly proved; and the drug employed was one with which I was perfectly familiar, thanks to my Indian experience. It was no doubt daturine, the alkaloid of the fruit-leaves or seed of some species of the datura or thorn-apple tree, Datura stramionium, Datura tatnla, alba, or fastuosa probably the most fatal and deadly form of all; I recognised the symptoms, the properties of the drug and their effects. I knew that it resisted the action of fire, and that it was therefore well adapted for use in tobacco. The cigarette contained it, of course; but Sencilla evidently had not trusted to that method of administration alone, and must have also drugged my drink, and strongly. The almost instantaneous effect of my long dranght showed this. I was no stranger to the action of datura : I had seen its effects when employed by thieves in the punjaub for their own nefarious ends. But these were lesser criminals; their object was mainly to drug, or hocus their victims, preparatory to robbing them ; their doses were seldom fatal. Sencilla meant to Mil— the fact was to me indubitjj able. She could gain nothingmuch by rendering me insensible for a time ; when I recovered myself I should probably be a source of peril toher,andeouldmorethanever interfere with her plans. No ; it was my removal, my death that she sought to compass: of that I felt convinced, and my conclusion was borne out by the evident strength of the dose given, the truculent words sne had let drop at my bedside, and the wish to complete the deed. And why ? For what reason had she doomed me to a violent death? For the simple reason that I was in her way; that my presence at Mouchy, my inquisitiveness, my doubts of the local doctor's skill alarmed her, and threatened to cross her in the fell purpose she was evidently pursuing. I saw , now why my first appearance had been so irksome ; I guessed why her attitude . towards me had so suddenly and completely changed ; why she had acted with such consummate art, had shown such stupendous duplicity, had parodied so diabolically all the softest and most tender emotions. I had been finely fooled; but surely as a wiser man might have been : since Adam sinned, Eve has always had the best of it when she chooses. I came very rapidly to these conclusions — in far less time that it has taken to set them down. My thoughts were stimulated by the urgency of the situation. What if Sencilla, satisfied that I was dead, or at the last gasp, was even now proceeding to the denouement of the deadly drama in which my affair was only the prelude ? I was now as certain that she aimed at Lady Ardstraw*s life as if I had seen her administering the bane ; I had no precise knowledge of the poison used, but I had learnt something from the victim as she had described her symptoms, and I firmly believed that she was suffering from " chronic " as distinguished from "acute" poisoning, from the slow undermining of health, probably by some vegetable irritant — this was mere conjecture — administered regularly in small doses, and not by any of the fatal drugs which are rapidly, even instantaneously, lethal in their effects. Yet I was greatly puzzled how to act for the best. I felt that, if I would save Lady Ardstraw, I must do something Boon-^-: thflt I TniiirfL/viynf^ns^Aart^ Sencilla at once.

expose her base designs, visit her with just retribution — and yet I could not quite decide. I was still struggling myself with the effects of the daturine,, and my mind alternated strangely and quickly between, abnormal clearness and dull, dazed stupidity. It was of the first importance to recover myself thoroughly, and for this I sought the porter's assistance. He had been standing there half-amazed, half-amused at my movements, which, no doixbt, appeared to be tho complement of my former strange behaviour. He had seen me snatch the cigarettes from him, run to the door and lock it. He had seen me light one, smoke it for a few seconds, then put it aside; had seen me then try the other, and almost instantly drop it. Now he thought me altogether mad when I asked him abruptly if he could get me some mustard, flour of mustard and milk — plenty of milk. . The reader — certainly any one of the faculty — will understand that I: only sought the simplest remedies and restoratives indicated by my present condition. But Rudolph stared and stammered, and for a long time could not be induced to go in search of them. He urged me to lie down again, to sleep, if I could : I should, no doubt, be quite well in the morningr. But I persisted, and he went. Sencilla came again directly I was 'alone. I expected it, and was fully prepared, lying as before in a heavy, lethargic, j comatose trance, from which there was presumably no awakening. But I was sufficiently alert to observe that she was dressed forgoing out — wore hat and cloak, and was well wrapped up, as against the I night air. What could it mean ? Why did she propose to leave the hotel ? Fright ? There wasnoescapingfroni Mouchy except on foot ! at this time of night, and she could, if necessary, be quickly overtaken. What other reason, then ? She had again flitted away at Rudolf's approach, as stealthily as before. I asked if he had seen any one about. "No one: not a soul. The hotelisall quiet; every one is in bed and sound asleep." "As you would like to be, eh, Rudolf? Well, I will not keep you long :" and I forthwith applied myself to the remedies he had brought me. I may pass quickly over details ; but after the emetic, and a copious draught of good sweet milk, I felt another creature. Then . I dismissed the porter with an ample pourboire, locked the " door behind him, and waited, wondering what would happen next. I f elb nearly certain that, if Sencilla had not. already left the hotel, she would return to my room ; and I expected that on finding my door locked she would come to a certain conclusion that all was over with me. The porter had left me for good and all, because I was beyond all hope, and had no further need for his attentions. He could make no fuss about it : deaths are kept very much in the background in hotels — especially abroad, where intermentfollows within twenty-four hours. I reasoned, and I think rightly, that the impression my closed door would leave on Sencilla's mind was that he had gone off and locked the door of the room, which had now become a mortuary. Within a few minutes of the porter's departure my conclusion was so far verified ' that Sancilla returned. She tried the door, and finding it fast, knocked— oh, so gently ! — merely, I presume, to confirm her in her supposition that all was over within. A second and third knock followed, then all was quiet. I gave her a couple of minutes more ; and after that, with the utmost caution, I unlocked my door and looked out. My room was nearly at the end of the corridor. A couple of dozen steps or so from the grand staircase, and in this direction, under the lowered gaslight, I saw the flutter of a skirt as it turned the corner. Snatching up a hat, I went out and gave chase. It was, of course, Sencilla ; moving so fast, and with such an assured step, that this could not be the first time she had gone out secretly and at the dead of night from the hotel. She left the house by the side or garden entrance, the door being merely bolted within. I followed, but not too close, always at a respectful distance I traced her by a sheltered path to a little pine wood, which straggled up the mountain slope and ended abruptly under an overhanging cliff. Here, for a time, I lost her ; but creeping cautiously forward in the direction I had last seen her, I came upon a seemingly halfruined shed— which had yet a roof and a good stout door. There was a light inside, shaded and invisible until I was close up to the walls ; and then, peering through a chink, I found it sufficient to disclose a woman's figure moving to and fro within. What next? My first impulse was to forcibly enter and confront Sencilla with my unexpected presence. Then more cautious counsels restrained me. She could not have come out here so far, and in this secret fashion, for any good purpose; and to know that purpose was of the utmost importance. It was wiser to wait ; she would probably betray herself further; I should perhaps get some insight into her methods ; this lonely hut, thus clandestinely visited, was probably the centre and origin of her murderous practices. So I waited, and, withdrawing to a discreet distance, watched ' from thence, as I thought, for an interminable time — one hour, two, nearly three, until, indeed, the dawn was already near. Then, just as the cold light of morning was beginning to break, she came out warily, but with the greatest coolness and self-possession, and looking first right and left, to make stire she was tinobserved, she closed the door of the hut behind her, secured it with some rough fastening, and with another furtive glance around, sped back homewards, no doubt to the hotel. I gave her ample 3tart, using the interval to make a short examination of the interior of the hut, which seemed fitted like a kitchen or rough laboratory; then I quickly retraced my steps, and. overtook Sencilla just as she was re-entering the house. 1 pressed forward, and before she could close the door, forced my way inside, facing her as I seized her wrists, and looked sternly into her face. "You! you!" she gasped; and then with unexpected supernatural strength, she tore herself away, and ran with nimble-footed terror along the corridor, to the grand staircase, upstairs, and on, on, with me at her heels, till she reached the second floor, where her own room was. This was her goal ; and here, with a last wild effort of speed, she entered panting, banged the door behind her, and locked it securely on the inside. By this time it was broad daylight, and there were sounds of movement in the house, the early indications of reawakening life. Aa I stood baffled at the closed door a maid passed me, and I checked her obvious surprise at seeing me there by desiring her peremptorily to arouse the manager at once. I was resolved to keep olose guard over Seneilla. I feared she might do something desperate against herself or others, although I never quite anticipated what actually occurred. I had some difficulty in persuading M. Jules when he arrived that I was sane and sober ; he was still defiant and suspicious, af teir my previous night's ' escapade. But by degrees he began to realise how serious the situation was ; and while obviously shocked at the . scandal that must come upon the hotel, he had all a Frenchman's respect for the law as represented by the Commissary of Police. The latter functionary ( we were under French jurisdiction at Mouchy) was therefore brought upon the scene ; and when he arrived, backed by a couple of gendarmes, a formal sorrimation was made at Sencilla's door. Now came the unforeseen. No answer was made to the repeated summons to open the door; and- then, after due warning, a locksmith was sent for, and a forcible entry made. The first sight that met our horrified gaze was that .of the body of Sencilla stretched lifeless on the floor.' She was dead — quite dead. A subsequent examination proved that she had taken veratria, the alkaloid of white hellebore, a most deadly poison, rapidly fatal to life.. I will summarise the rest of my story, although . much remains, .to be. told. Sencilla Midhurst, or Madan, was onp of *Ms£*??» uncommon, tyjte of woman, the

secret poisoner. She was another Brinvilliers, a Zwanziger, or Catherine Wilson— as cool-blooded and inexorable, bnt with the nrlcled and more terrible quality of unusual attractiveness. Then her trained intelligence, her close application to the lessons learnt in hospital practice, had given her a far wider range of destructive power. When, later that same morning, we visited the cMlet in the wood, we found traces of the most ingenious scientific, or rather chemical, processes for the preparation of her drugs. She was a practised herbalist, and laid all the neighbourhood under contribution ; we found a great stock of the roots, leaves, seeds and flowers that are known to have noxious properties — the hellebores, thornapple, yellow jasmine, foxglove, deadlynightshades, and more particularly meadow saffron, the pretty lilac flower just then so plentiful in the Swiss fields. The apparatus used for the manufacture was rude, but effective ; I readily understood, the use of the kettles, the small charcoal stove, the phials and jars containing alcohol, the filters arid retorts. Her intended victim, Lady Ardstraw, eventually recovered entirely. She was being slowly poisoned by colchicine; and when the hellish hand which had administered the lethal drug was removed the symptoms gradually disappeared. The poor lady's gratitude to me, whom she recognised as her preserver, was very sincere ; and I found years afterwards at her death — from natural causes, I may safely say — that it took a very substantial form. But at one time, whiie at Mouchy-les-Bains, she had made a will leaving everything to Sencilla, who had completely fascinated her. There was ' strong presumptive evidence found among Sencilla's papers that she had long practised her fiendish arts. A letter, from her dead husband, preserved through some strange fatality, some cynical or reckless carelessness, hinted that his suicide had been due to his shocked discovery of her real character. Whether she had done any of his patients to de"ath there was j nothing to show, but it was evident that he found the shameful burden intolerable to bear. Nor was it always clear what motive inspired Sencilla-r-whether it was the overpowering impulse of her murderous instinct, the secret gratification of her deadly power, or the desire for personal profit and advantage j but it was certain that in Lady Ardstraw's case greed . predominated, that -it was to secure a substantial fortune that she sought her victim's death. I was to be sacrificed to the same horrible rapacity.