sally gardiner grew deathly pale as antoinette's words fell upon her ear. had she heard aright, or were her ears playing her a horrible trick?

"mr. victor lamont is in the grounds, my lady, hiding among the thick alder-bushes down by the brook, and he vows he will stay there, be it day, week, month, or year, until he gets an opportunity to see and speak with you."

"you must manage to see him at once, antoinette, and give him a message from me. tell him i will see him to-morrow night—at—at midnight, down by the brook-side. i can not, i dare not, come before that, lest i might attract the attention of the inmates of the house. if—if he should question you about my affairs, or, in fact, about anything, make answer that you do not know to all inquiries—all questions. be off at once, antoinette. delays are dangerous, you know."

as soon as she found herself alone, young mrs. gardiner turned the key in the lock, and flew at once to her writing-desk. antoinette had laid several letters upon it. the letters—the writing upon two of which seemed rather familiar to her—were from the gentlemen who had loaned her the money a short time before at newport. one stated that he should be in that vicinity at the end of the week, asking if she could find it convenient to pay part of the loan he had made to her when he called upon her. the other letter stated that the writer would be obliged if she could pay the money to his daughter when it became due. "she is a great friend of miss margaret gardiner's," he went on to state, "and has decided to accept an invitation to spend a fortnight at the mansion, and would arrive there the following week."

sally gardiner tore both letters into shreds, and cast them from her with a laugh that was terrible to hear.

"i shall trust my wit to see me safely through this affair," she muttered. "i do not know just how it is to be done, but i shall accomplish it somehow."

there was a tap at the door. thrusting the letters quickly in her desk, she closed the lid, securely locked it, and put the key in the pocket of her dress.

she was about to say "come in," when she suddenly remembered that she had fastened the door. when she opened it, she found andrew, her husband's valet, standing there with a very white, troubled face.

"i am sorry to hurry you, my lady," he said in a tremulous voice; "but master seems so much worse we are sore afraid for him. miss margaret bids me summon you without a moment's delay."

"i shall be there directly," replied the young wife; and the valet wondered greatly at the cool way in which she took the news of her husband's serious condition.

"those pretty society young women have no hearts," he thought, indignantly. "she married my poor young master for his money, not for love; that is quite evident to me."

young mrs. gardiner was just about to leave her boudoir, when antoinette returned.

"you saw him and delivered my message?" said sally, anxiously.

"oh, yes, my lady," returned the girl.

"well," said sally, expectantly, "what did he say?"

"he was raving angry, my lady," laughed antoinette. "he swore as i told him all; but at length he cooled down, seeing that his rage did not mend matters. 'take this to your mistress, my good girl,' he said, tearing a leaf from his memorandum-book, and scribbling hastily, upon it. here it is, my lady."

as she spoke, she thrust a crumpled bit of paper into young mrs. gardiner's trembling hand.

there was no date; the note contained but a few lines, and read as follows:

"i shall be by the alder-bushes at midnight to-morrow night, and shall expect you to be equally punctual. no subterfuge, please. if for any reason you should fail to keep your appointment, i shall call upon you directly after breakfast the following morning, and shall see you—at any cost!

"lamont."

she would not give herself any worry until she stood face to face with victor lamont; then some sort of an excuse to put him off would be sure to come to her.

there was another tap at the door. it was andrew again, standing on the threshold, shaking like an aspen leaf.

"pardon me, my lady; miss margaret begs me to urge you to make all possible haste."

"i am coming now," she answered; and, looking into her face, andrew marveled at the indifferent expression on it, and at the harshness of her voice.

she followed him without another word. a frightened cry broke from her lips as she hastily crossed the room, and bent over the couch on which her husband lay.

he was marble white, and looked so strange, she thought he was certainly dying.

"we have sent for all the doctors about here. they are expected every moment," said miss margaret, touching her sister-in-law on the arm. "i thought that in a consultation they would find some way to save him if it lay in human power."

sally looked up in affright into the calm white face beside her. she tried to speak, but no sound fell from her cold, parched lips.

when the great doctors came, they would find that jay gardiner had not taken the mild sleeping draught which poor andrew believed he had administered to him by mistake; but, instead, a most powerful drug, an overdose of which meant death. yes, they would find it out, and then—— she dared not think what would happen then.

"i have been looking carefully into this affair," continued miss margaret, in that same calm, clear voice, "and i have reason to believe there is something terribly wrong here. i have often taken the same drops for sleeplessness that andrew says has been administered to my brother, and it never produced that effect upon me, and on several cases i have taken an overdose."

"i—i—suppose—the—the—drug—acts differently upon different constitutions," answered young mrs. gardiner.

her eyes seemed fairly glued upon the still, white face lying back on the not whiter pillow. she could not have removed her gaze if her very life had been at stake.

"i have a strange theory," continued miss margaret, slowly, and in that terribly calm voice that put sally's nerves on edge. "a very strange theory."

margaret gardiner saw her sister-in-law start suddenly and gasp for breath, and her face grew alarmingly white as she answered, hoarsely:

"a theory of—of—how your brother's condition came about!" she gasped, rather than spoke the words. "then you—you—do not—believe—andrew's—statement?"

"no!" replied margaret gardiner, in that same high, clear, solemn voice that seemed to vibrate through every pore of sally's body. "i think andrew fully believes what he states to be the truth; but he has not deceived. he has been most cleverly fooled by some one else."

"what—what—makes you—think that?" cried sally, sharply. "those are strong words and a strange accusation to make, miss margaret."

"i am quite well aware of that," was the slow reply.

and as jay's sister uttered the words, sally could feel the strong gaze which accompanied them burn like fire to the very depths of her beating heart.

what did margaret gardiner suspect? surely, she would never think of suspecting that she—his bride—had any hand in jay's illness? there would be no apparent reason.

"shall i tell you whom i suspect knows more of this than——"

"doctor baker, miss," announced one of the servants; and the coming of the famous old doctor put a stop to all further conversation for the present, much to sally's intense relief.