But he never could have anticipated the actual revelation. There was no difficulty in finding Ziba Linthicum's Drug store. The proprietor was a lank, thin-faced man, with projecting, near-sighted eyes, and an exceedingly prim, pursed mouth. His words, uttered in the close, wiry twang peculiar to Southern Pennsylvania, seemed to give him a positive relish: one could fancy that his mouth watered slightly as he spoke. His long, lean lips had a settled smirk at the corner, and the skin was drawn so tightly over his broad, concave chin-bone that it shone, as if polished around the edges. He was waiting upon a little girl when Philip entered; but he looked up from his scales, bowed, smiled, and said: "In a moment, if you please." Philip leaned upon the glass case, apparently absorbed in the contemplation of the various soaps and perfumes under his eyes, but thinking only of the paper in his pocket-book. "Something in this line, perhaps?" Mr. Linthicum, with a still broader smile, began to enumerate: "These are from the Society Hygiennick—" "No," said Philip, "my business is especially private. I take it for granted that you have many little confidential matters intrusted to you." "Oh, undoubtedly, sir! Quite as much so as a physician." "You are aware also that mistakes sometimes occur in making up prescriptions, or in using them afterwards?" "Not by _me_, I should hope. I keep a record of every dangerous ingredient which goes out of my hands." "Ah!" Philip exclaimed. Then he paused, uncertain how much to confide to Mr. Linthicum's discretion. But, on mentioning his name and residence, he found that both himself and Mr. Hopeton were known—and favorably, it seemed—to the apothecary. He knew the class of men to which the latter belonged,—prim, fussy, harmlessly vain persons, yet who take as good care of their consciences as of their cravats and shirt-bosoms. He produced the paper without further delay. "That was bought here, certainly," said Mr. Linthicum. "The word 'Arsenic' is written in my hand. The date when, and the person by whom it was purchased, must be in my register. Will you go over it with me?" He took a volume from a drawer, and beginning at the last entry, they went slowly backward over the names, the apothecary saying: "This is confidential: I rely upon your seeing without remembering." They had not gone back more than two or three weeks before Philip came upon a name that made his heart stand still. There was a record in a single line:— "_Miss Henderson. Arsenic._" He waited a few seconds, until he felt sure of his voice. Then he asked: "Do you happen to know Miss Henderson?" "Not at all! A perfect stranger." "Can you, perhaps, remember her appearance?" "Let me see," said Mr. Linthicum, biting the end of his forefinger; "that must have been the veiled lady. The date corresponds. Yes, I feel sure of it, as all the other poison customers are known to me." "Pray describe her then!" Philip exclaimed.