"It isn't she! I'll take my oath on that," she said eagerly and thought that she had done a wonderfully clever thing. She waited in suspense, fearing that the authorities would take a closer look at this last incident. She was equipped for any search--even one that might penetrate to her own bed-room. For she had put false bottoms into the little medicine-boxes. Beneath these she kept the arsenic. On top lay harmless magnesia. The boxes themselves stood on her toilet-table, exposed to all eyes and hence withdrawn from all suspicion. She waited till evening, but nobody came. And yet the connection between this incident and the former one seemed easy enough to establish. However that might be, she assigned the final deed to the very next day. And why wait? An end had to be made of this torture of hesitation which, at every new scruple, seemed to freeze her very heart's blood. Furthermore the finding of the "crow's eyes" would be of use in leading justice astray. To-morrow, then ... to-morrow.... Weigand had gone to bed early. But Toni sat behind the door of the public room and, through a slit of the door, listened to every movement of the waitress. She had kept near her all evening. She scarcely knew why. But a strange, dull hope would not die in her--a hope that something might happen whereby her unsuspecting victim and herself might both be saved. The clock struck one. The public rooms were all but empty. Only a few young clerks remained. These were half-drunk and made rough advances to the waitress. She resisted half-serious, half-jesting. "You go out and cool yourselves in the night-air. I don't care about such fellows as you." "I suppose you want only counts and barons," one of them taunted her. "I suppose you wouldn't even think the county-counsellor good enough!" "That's my affair," she answered, "as to who is good enough for me. I have my choice. I can get any man I want." They laughed at her and she flew into a rage. "If you weren't such a beggarly crew and had anything to bet, I'd wager you any money that I'd seduce any man I want in a week. In a week, do I say? In three days! Just name the man." Antonie quivered sharply and then sank with closed eyes, against the back of her chair. A dream of infinite bliss stole through her being. Was there salvation for her in this world? Could this coarse creature accomplish that in which beauty and refinement had failed? Could she be saved from becoming a murderess? Would it be granted her to remain human, with a human soul and a human face? But this was no time for tears or weakening. With iron energy she summoned all her strength and quietude and wisdom. The moment was a decisive one. When the last guests had gone and all servants, too, had gone to their rest, she called the waitress, with some jesting reproach, into her room. A long whispered conversation followed. At its end the woman declared that the matter was child's play to her.