"What is the matter with your hand, Francis?" I said in a steady voice. "Nothing of consequence. I cut a finger last night, and it bled rather awkwardly, so I did it up roughly to the best of my ability." "I will do it neatly for you, if you like." "No, thank you, dear, this will answer very well. Suppose we have breakfast; I am quite hungry." We sat down, and I watched him. He scarcely ate or drank at all, but tossed his meat to the dog when he thought my eyes were turned away; and there was a look in his eyes that I had never yet seen, and the thought fled across my mind that it was a look that was scarcely human. I was firmly convinced that awful and incredible as was the thing I had seen the night before, yet it was no illusion, no glamour of bewildered sense, and in the course of the morning I went again to the doctor's house. He shook his head with an air puzzled and incredulous, and seemed to reflect for a few minutes. "And you say he still keeps up the medicine? But why? As I understand, all the symptoms he complained of have disappeared long ago; why should he go on taking the stuff when he is quite well? And by the bye where did he get it made up? At Sayce's? I never send any one there; the old man is getting careless. Suppose you come with me to the chemist's; I should like to have some talk with him." We walked together to the shop. Old Sayce knew Dr. Haberden, and was quite ready to give any information. "You have been sending that in to Mr. Leicester for some weeks, I think, on my prescription," said the doctor, giving the old man a pencilled scrap of paper. The chemist put on his great spectacles with trembling uncertainty, and held up the paper with a shaking hand. "Oh, yes," he said, "I have very little of it left; it is rather an uncommon drug, and I have had it in stock some time. I must get in some more, if Mr. Leicester goes on with it." "Kindly let me have a look at the stuff," said Haberden; and the chemist gave him a glass bottle. He took out the stopper and smelt the contents, and looked strangely at the old man. "Where did you get this?" he said, "and what is it? For one thing, Mr. Sayce, it is not what I prescribed. Yes, yes, I see the label is right enough, but I tell you this is not the drug." "I have had it a long time," said the old man, in feeble terror. "I got it from Burbage's in the usual way. It is not prescribed often, and I have had it on the shelf for some years. You see there is very little left." "You had better give it to me," said Haberden. "I am afraid something wrong has happened." We went out of the shop in silence, the doctor carrying the bottle neatly wrapped in paper under his arm. "Dr. Haberden," I said when we had walked a little way--"Dr. Haberden." "Yes," he said, looking at me gloomily enough. "I should like you to tell me what my brother has been taking twice a day for the last month or so."