"Madame has left her medicine in the dining-room; I am fetching it for her." I left her to fulfill her errand, but kept watch on the landing above. Again I intercepted her. In her hands, as I suspected, was the decanter of brandy. "Is that the medicine you were sent for?" "I could not find it, monsieur. I thought this would do her good; she is depressed, and needs something strengthening." There was no sign of confusion on the woman's face; she was calm and composed. "Go down again and search for the medicine you were sent for," I said, taking the decanter from her. "But, monsieur, I have already sought for it, and cannot find it." "To search again, then, would be useless?" "Quite useless, monsieur." "You can go to bed, Annette. I will attend to your mistress." "It is impossible, monsieur. Madame requires me. Madame engaged me; I am her servant." "You are my servant also." "Oh, no, monsieur. It is madame who orders me." "I am master here. Do as I bid you. Go to bed." She did not move. While this colloquy was proceeding there was silence in Barbara's room. Suddenly the door was dashed open, and my wife appeared, her dress disordered, her eyes inflamed, her face distorted by the hysterical passion of the habitual drunkard. As in a flash, I saw the inroads the bestial vice was making upon her beauty. "Beast, beast, beast!" she shrieked, throwing herself upon me as I recoiled from the horrible sight. By engaging in a disgraceful struggle I might have retained the decanter of brandy, but I was not equal to it. She wrested it from me, and clutching Annette's arm, she dragged her into the room, the lock of which I heard turned a moment afterwards. Then came to my ears her mad laughter at the triumph she had achieved. CHAPTER XIII.