"Poison!" read out he aloud, gazing at the large letters through his spectacles. "How came you to let it break open in your pocket, Ann Dovey?" "I didn't let it; it braked of itself," she sobbed. "If you saw the black-beedles we gets here of a night, sir, you'd be fit to dance a hornpipe, you would. The floor be covered with 'em." "If the ceiling was covered with 'em too, I wouldn't have that there dangerous stuff brought into the place--and so I've telled ye often," roared Dovey. "It's frightful uncomfortable, is black-beedles; mother knows it," said his wife, in a subdued voice--for Dovey in great things was master. "I thought if I just sprinkled a bit on't down, it 'ud take 'em away, and couldn't hurt nobody." "And you went off on the sly that there Tuesday night and bought it," he retorted; "and come back and telled me you had been to Reed's helping to physic the babies." "And so I had been there, helping to physic 'em." "Did you go straight to Reed's from the shop--with this powder?" asked Duffham. "It was right at the bottom o' my pocket: I put it there as soon as Dame Chad had served me with it," sobbed Ann Dovey. "And I can be upon my Bible oath, Dr. Duffham, that I never touched it after; and I don't believe it had then burst. A-coming hasty out of Reed's back-gate, for I were in a hurry to get home, the pocket swung again' the post, and I think the blue paper must ha' burst then. I never knowed it had burst, for I'd never thought no more about the beedles till I put on the gownd to go up to the inquest. Master Johnny, you be a-staring at me fearful, but I'm telling nothing but the naked truth." She did seem to be telling the truth. And as to my "staring at her fearful," that was just her imagination. I was listening to the talk from the elbow of the wooden chair, on which I had perched myself. Duffham recommended Dovey to put the tin dish and its contents away safely, so that it did not get near any food, but not to destroy the stuff just yet. He talked a bit with Ann, left her a composing draught, and came away. "I don't see that the powder could have had anything to do with the children's death," I said to him as we went along. "Neither do I, Johnny!" "Shall you have to declare this at the inquest to-morrow, Mr. Duffham?" "I am sure I don't know," he answered, looking up at the sky through his spectacles, just as a perplexed owl might do. "It might only serve to complicate matters: and I don't think it's possible it could have been the powder. On the other hand, if it be proved not to have been the pills, we have only this poisonous powder to fall back upon. It is a strange affair altogether, take it in all its bearings." I did not answer. The evening star was beginning to show itself in the sky.