All the way home this woman's heart grew more and more bitter because of the jealous thoughts that rankled in her breast. Her love for her husband was of that selfish sort, that exacted all for herself. She wished not only to be first in his affections, but she desired to be second, third, and last. He must not love any other than herself, unless indeed it might have been a child of hers. Having been denied that boon, she could not bear to think that he had been the father of a child not hers. She hated that dead mother, and lacking opportunity to vent her spite in that direction, she transferred her venom to her offspring. She had never liked Leon, but now she despised him utterly.

She thought of Lossy, the dog which her husband had bought and presented to Leon. That the Doctor should have been so solicitous for the lad, galled her. The dog had always been an object upon which she would vent her spite when it could not be known, but now she would give some open evidence of her displeasure.

As she entered the hallway at home, imagine her delight to see Lossy, poor dog, sitting down idly tearing a fine lace handkerchief with his teeth. It seemed to her that Providence offered her an excuse for what she contemplated. She called the dog to her, and the faithful, unsuspecting creature followed her up the stairs to his doom. She went into the laboratory, knowing that both the Doctor and Leon were out, and readily found a bottle marked "Aconite."

She sat upon a low bench and called Lossy. The confiding beast went to her, and, raising himself, planted his forepaws in her lap. He would have kissed her face, but she prevented him. Grasping his jaws in her powerful hands she forced them open, and poured the entire contents of the bottle into his mouth, holding his jaws apart until he was forced to swallow the liquid. Then she released him, and he ran to that asylum of refuge and safety, his master's room. Alas, that master was away, courting! Thus Lossy's fate was sealed!

Madame awaited for Leon's return, anxious to gloat over his grief at the death of his pet, and it was for this, and to carry out another design, that she went to his room while he was ministering to his dog.

Before she could fulfil her other project her husband, having returned home, interrupted them, having been attracted by the noise from Leon's room.

When she left them Madame went to her own apartment, and after the death of the dog, Dr. Medjora followed her there, determined to discover the whole truth. As he entered she arose to meet him, facing him with an undaunted air.

"Cora," demanded the Doctor, "how dared you commit such a hideous crime? Why did you poison that dog?"

"Because it was my pleasure to do so!"

"Your pleasure to deprive a poor dumb brute of life? You should be ashamed to make such a confession!"

"I am not the only one who might make confessions!"

"What do you mean?" The Doctor instantly realized that a covert threat lay hidden in her words.

"You have deceived me," cried his wife, at last giving full play to her anger. "For years you have lied to me. But at last I know everything. I know who Leon is!"

"Do you?" The man was exasperatingly calm. He folded his arms and, gazing coldly upon the wrathful woman, added, "What is it that you think you know?"

"I do not think! I tell you I know! You brought him here, calling him a poor boy whom you wished to befriend. That was a lie! He is your own child!"

"How do you know that?"

"I hired a detective. He found out the whole hideous truth. I have your letters for proof, so you need not attempt denial."

"So you have found letters? Are they genuine? Let me see them?"

"I am not such a fool as that. I have hidden them where you cannot find them. I have a better use for them than to give them to you!"

"Indeed, and may I ask what use you intend to make of them?"

"I mean to take them to Judge Dudley, and to his daughter Agnes! Ha!

That idea does not please you, does it?"

"With what purpose would you show them the letters?"

"I know what you are aiming at! I am not the fool that you think! I have studied you, and watched you all these years, and I understand you very well. You wish Leon and Agnes to be married?"

"I do! What of it?"

"What of it? It shall never be! That shall be my vengeance for your long deception. I will prevent that marriage if it cost me my life!"

"If you dare to interfere with my plans it may cost you your life!"

The words were said in threatening tones, which at any other time would have cowed Madame, but now she had thrown aside her mask, and could not be stayed from her purpose. She answered haughtily, and with a tantalizing sneer:

"No! No! My fine Doctor! You cannot rid yourself of me, as you did of Mabel Sloane! I will not drink your poison!"

"Woman! Beware!" He grasped her wrists, but with a wrench she freed herself, and stepping back spoke wildly on:

"Yes! You can strangle me perhaps! You are strong, and I am only a woman. But, before I die, I will frustrate your grand scheme to marry this miserable son of yours to an aristocrat. When I tell Judge Dudley that the boy is yours, he will hesitate to admit the son of a murderer into his family. For though he obtained your acquittal, and though he has been your friend for so many years, mark me, he will decline an alliance with one who was so near the gallows!"

She paused to note the effect of her words, a slight fear entering her heart, as she thought that perhaps she had said too much. To her amazement, her husband, without answering a single word, turned and left the room.

Leon lay beside his dog so long, that at last the twilight closed in, and slowly the light of day faded until darkness surrounded him.

He heard the strokes upon the j.a.panese bronze which summoned him to dinner, but he did not heed. It seemed to him that he would never care to eat again. Through the weary hours of the night Leon was struggling against suggestion. It will be remembered that, in his little story, he likened the killing of a dog to murder. Therefore in his opinion the killing of Lossy, was a murderous act; and thus the thought of murder occupied his mind. He considered Madame a self-confessed criminal, and, as such, justice demanded that she should be punished.

But the justice of man did not include her act within the statutes of the criminal code. She had killed Lossy, but, were he to demand her punishment at the hands of the law, the law's representatives would laugh at him. But punished she should be, of that he was already determined.

If it seem to you that Leon over-estimated the wrong which had been done to him, then one of two things is true. Either you have never loved and been loved by a dog, or else you forget that the love lavished upon him by Lossy was all the affection which Leon had enjoyed for years. To the lad, his collie was his dearest friend. In the grief for his death he had even forgotten for the time his human love, Agnes. Thus it was that the idea of meting out justice against Madame himself, having once entered his mind, took a firm hold upon him.

How should he accomplish it? What should her punishment be? What is the usual punishment of murder? Death! A chill pa.s.sed over him at the thought. Yet was not Lossy's life as dear to him, as Madame Medjora's was to her? Then why should not she lose her life in payment for the crime which she had committed, her victim being a defenceless and confiding dog? Leon pictured to himself how she had accomplished the deed. He saw, in his mind, the poor creature going to her, and thus placing himself within her power. The thought maddened him, and setting his teeth together he muttered audibly:

"She shall die!"

Then his brain sought some way to compa.s.s such an end with safety to himself, and before long he had concocted a scheme of devilish ingenuity. His knowledge of chemistry warned him that poisons could be traced in the tissues of the body after death, and that such means would be suicidal.

"But suppose she were to die a natural death? Then, not even suspicion would be aroused."

That was the idea. He must convey to her the germs of some deadly disease from which she would be apt to die. Then the _post-mortem_ would show nothing out of the common. There would be no way to detect how the disease had been contracted. The attending physician would certify that the death was due to a known disease, and an autopsy, if held, would substantiate his statements.

What disease should he choose? Asiatic cholera? He had some pure cultures in a tube in the laboratory. But no! That would not serve his purpose. Cholera is such an uncommon and dangerous malady, that the Board of Health would strictly investigate a sporadic case. It might not be difficult to trace the fact that he had obtained the germs from the European laboratory whence they had been sent to Dr. Medjora for experimental purposes. It would be safer to select some disease of frequent occurrence. He had the germs of diphtheria also, in the form of a pure culture. Should he use them? It would not be sure that the woman would die, but at any rate she might, and surely she would suffer. Yes! He would cause her to contract diphtheria. But how to proceed? Ah! He would use chloroform upon her in her natural sleep, and thus obtain the opportunity for his inoculation.

And so the idea grew, and his plans were arranged and perfected hour after hour, until at last midnight had arrived. Stealthily he left his room and went towards the Doctor's study. Arrived there, he was about to cross and enter the laboratory, when his attention was attracted by a line of light under the door. Some one was evidently in the laboratory. Leon slipped behind a curtain and waited. The minutes pa.s.sed tediously, but at last the door opened, and there appeared Dr.

Medjora, only partly dressed, his feet slippered. In one hand he carried a night lamp, and in the other he held a bottle and a test tube. Of this Leon was certain. Closing the door of the laboratory, the Doctor crossed the study and went out into the hall. Leon stole after him, and saw him start up the stairs. He watched until, as the Doctor ascended, the light gradually disappeared. Then he heard footsteps overhead, and knew that the Doctor had gone to his own room.

Madame slept at the other end of the dwelling.

"Some experiment which he is studying out," muttered Leon, and proceeded with his own grim purpose. He went into the laboratory, and lighted a lamp which was on the bench. He searched the closet where the drugs were kept, but the chloroform bottle was missing. He turned to the rack where he had left the tube in which the diphtheria bacillus had been cultivated, but that also could not be found.

In a moment, realizing that the means of committing the contemplated crime had in some mysterious way been taken from him, he awoke from the delirium of his thoughts, which had been brought on by his grief at the death of his dog, and he fervently thanked the fortune which had saved him from committing murder. Like a culprit, he returned stealthily to his room, head down, and there he sat at the window, looking out at the stars, grateful that he could do so, free from that dread secret which might have been his. He was saved!

On the next morning, however, Leon was horrified to hear that Madame had been suddenly taken ill, and that the malady was diphtheria, in its most virulent form. He could not understand it, but he was more than glad that his own conscience was free from stain.

Two days later, Madame Medjora succ.u.mbed to the disease, which is often fatal when it attacks one of her age; and so she went to her long account, with her sins upon her head.

CHAPTER XIV.

SANATOXINE.