The man did as he was ordered, and on his return found the dog sitting at his mistress's feet, looking up in her face. "Ah, Dorset," she said, speaking to the animal in a kindly tone, "you are better now, are you?" The man seemed inclined to linger to see whether the dog would eat: but Mrs. Hazleton took the plate from him, and threw the poor beast a small piece, which he devoured eagerly. "There that will do," said Mrs. Hazleton. "You may leave the room." When she was alone again, she paused for a moment or two, then deliberately unfolded the packet, and put a very small quantity of the powder it contained upon a piece of the meat. This morsel she threw to the poor animal, who swallowed it at once, and then she set down the plate upon the ground, which he cleared in a moment. After that Mrs. Hazleton turned to her reading again, and looked round once at the end of about two minutes. The dog had resumed his sleeping attitude, and she read on. Hardly a minute more had passed ere the poor brute started up, ran round once or twice, as if seized with violent convulsions, staggered for an instant to and fro, and fell over on its side. Mrs. Hazleton rang the hell violently, and two servants ran in at once. "He is dying," she cried; "he is dying." "Keep out of his way, madam," exclaimed one of the men, evidently in great fear himself, "there is no knowing what he may do." The next instant the poor dog started once more upon his feet, uttered a loud and terrific yell, and fell dead upon the floor. "Poor thing," said Mrs. Hazleton. "Poor Dorset! He is dead; take him away." The two men seemed unwilling to touch him, but when quite satisfied that there was no more life left in him, they carried him away, and Mrs. Hazleton remained alone. "Speedy enough," said the lady, replacing the large volume on the shelf. "We need no distillations and compoundings. This is as efficacious as ever. Now let me see. I must try and remember the size of the bottle, and the color of the stuff that was in it." She thought of these matters for some minutes, and then retired to rest. Did she sleep well or ill that night? God knows. But if she slept well, the friends of hell must sometimes have repose. The next morning very early, Mrs. Hazleton walked out. As the reader knows, she lived at no great distance from the little town, even by the high-road, and that was shortened considerably by a path through the park. There was a poor man in the place, an apothecary, who had came down there in the hope of carrying away some of the practice of good Mr. Short. He had not been very successful, and his stock of medicines was not very great: but he had all that Mrs. Hazleton wanted. Her demands indeed were simple enough--merely a little logwood, a little saffron, and a little madder. Having obtained these she asked to see some vials, and selected one containing somewhat less than half a pint.