I thought our hostess looked as little willing as I was to leave her story unfinished. “Oh, but you must hear the end,” she protested. “And you mustn’t go away without so much as a cup of tea.” She hopped lightly to the electric bell. “I want you to know that I’m not a patient of Dr. Weathered any longer; and I think I ought to tell you why--when the maid is gone.” The saving clause was prompted by a rough bang at the door, followed by the entrance of the untidy servant. She had anticipated her mistress’s orders, and brought in a huge tray laden with food sufficient to satisfy a large party of hungry people. The variety of sandwiches was amazing. Mrs. Baker’s popularity with the local tradesmen and the success of her At Homes seemed to be fully explained. “You will hardly believe it,” she resumed as soon as we had settled down to a serious attack on this provender, “but Dr. Willoughby ended by actually tempting me to commit a crime.” It was easier for us to believe than she supposed, but I did my best to look incredulous. “Yes, Dr. Carstairs, he told me that the only way to get rid of my murderous propensities was to give way to them. He advised me to kill Samuel.” This really was beyond my power to believe. “Samuel?” I repeated. “Yes, my beautiful black cat, the one that slept at the foot of my bed every night.” Tarleton raised his head quickly. “Did he suggest that you should give him the poison from Sumatra?” he put in. The explorer’s sister nodded. The object of the advice she had received was plain enough. The scoundrel wanted to test the effect of the poison; perhaps he felt some doubt if it was still active. Beyond that his intentions were dark. Such a man was quite capable of committing a murder by deputy, and he might have designed to make an instrument of this deluded patient of his. But, if so, there was nothing to tell us whose life he had been aiming at. He had felt himself to be surrounded by enemies, according to Madame Bonnell’s statement. He may have wished to provide himself with a weapon for use in case of need. The worthy owner of Samuel told us that she had refused to slay her pet. “I sent him away for fear I should be tempted to kill him,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I found him a happy home with a former maid of mine who is married and living in the country. She writes me about him once a month, when I send her a postal order. I shall never dare to have him back again.” My youthful indignation became too much for me. “There is not the slightest reason why you shouldn’t have your cat back to-morrow,” I said bluntly. “You are no more likely to kill it than I am. The man was telling you a pack of lies from the beginning. Sir Frank Tarleton will tell you the same. We have been finding out a good deal about this man during the last few days; and you were not his only victim.” Mrs. Baker opened her eyes in a way that showed more offence than gratitude. I had gone the wrong way to work to disabuse her.