This passage led directly from the front door through the house to the kitchen. It was dark; all the light it got was from the front door, or through the kitchen when one or other door was left open. Originally the front door had opened into a hall or reception room with window and fireplace; but Taverner had battened off the passage, and converted the old hall into a room where he kept saddles and bridles and other things connected with the stables. By shutting off the window by the partition he had darkened the passage, and consequently the kitchen door had invariably to be left open to light it. In this dark passage stood Honor, looking down it to the kitchen which was full of light, whilst she pinned up the skirt of her best gown, so as not to soil it whilst engaged in serving up the supper. As she stood thus she saw Mrs. Veale at the fire stirring the broth for her master in an iron saucepan. She put her hand to the mantelshelf, took down the china dog, and Honor saw her remove from its inside a packet of yellow paper, empty the contents into the pan, then burn the paper and pour the broth into a bowl. In a moment Kate’s story of the rat poison in the body of the dog recurred to Honor, and she stood paralysed, unable to resolve what to do. Then she recalled the look cast at Taverner by Mrs. Veale as she was signing the settlement as witness. Honor reopened the parlour door, went into the room again she had just left, and seated herself, that she might collect her thoughts and determine what to do. Kate was not a reliable authority, and it was not judicious to act on information given by her sister without having proved it. Honor had seen Mrs. Veale thrust the yellow paper into the flames under the pot. She could not therefore be sure by examination that it was the rat-poison packet. She remained half in a dream whilst the supper was laid, and woke with a start when Taverner said, ’Come to table all, and we will ask a blessing.’ Honor slowly drew towards the table; she looked round. Mrs. Veale was not there; before Taverner stood the steaming bowl of soup. Langford murmured grace, then said, ’Fall to. Oliver Luxmore, you do the honours. I can’t eat, I’m forced to take slops. But I’m better, only I must be careful.’ He put his spoon into the basin, and would have helped himself, had not Honor snatched the bowl away and removed it to the mantelshelf. ’You must not touch it,’ she said. ’I am not sure—I am afraid—I would not accuse wrongfully—it is poisoned.’ *CHAPTER XXXVII.* *A BOWL OF BROTH.*