'How wrong of me to have used that word!' said Pauline, who could not refrain from smiling at the horror-struck expression of his face; 'It fills your mind with thoughts of castles and spectres and bleeding nuns; it is in truth the language of romance. I should have said an anodyne, which means exactly the same thing, but being a medical term is more proper for use. 'Well, but,' said Martin, very little relieved by the explanation, 'the effect will be still the same. This draught, by whatever name you may choose to call it, which you propose to give her, will send her into a deep sleep.' 'Unquestionably.' 'And what is the object of that?' 'The object of that,' cried Pauline, beginning to lose patience, 'the object of that, my dear sir, is to prevent this lady from leaving her house, to give us twenty-four or thirty-six hours, as the case may be, to turn ourselves round in, and see what is best to be done.' 'I do not like it, I confess,' said Martin, hesitating; 'it appears to me a strong proceeding.' 'My good Monsieur Martin, is not the whole affair one which necessitates a strong proceeding, as you call it? The matter seems to me to stand thus: You have told this young woman that her husband's body is lying at the house in Great Walpole-street; you have promised that you will take her there this evening. If you do not arrive at the time appointed, she will become suspicious, and go off by herself--with what result we can imagine. If you go there, and decline to take her, making what excuse may occur to you, she, having probably had enough of such excuses already, will go off just the same--she knows the address--with the same result. Suppose you go there determined to reveal the truth; suppose you tell her that the man whom she worshipped was a villain, that his name was not Claxton, but Calverley, and that she was not his wife; what do you arrive at? So far as we are concerned, at exactly the same result. There is a dreadful scene; she refuses to believe anything you say; she insists upon going off to Mrs. Calverley; and there is, to use your charming English expression, all the fat in the fire. You will not accuse me of exaggeration Monsieur Martin; I am representing things exactly as they will happen, am I not?' 'Upon my word, I believe you are,' said Martin Gurwood; 'it is a most unfortunate state of affairs, most unfortunate, and I really do not see what we are to do.'