“You are saying terrible things, Mr. Cory,” said the doctor, “but your excitement must prove your excuse. The unfortunate woman certainly died from poison. But there is nothing in the event to lead to the supposition that anyone but herself was to blame for the accident. In any case, it is of a kind to which your daughter could hardly fall a victim. Even if Wear had been deliberately poisoned--and I do not for a moment think that is so--a repetition of the same kind of tragedy would not be ventured upon by even the most reckless criminals. The young lady whom I take to be your daughter looked so ill and upset that I advised her to go to bed at once, and I know that she agreed to follow my advice.” “Where is Mr. Stavanger?” “I do not know. There are no men in the house, I think, at present, and the women are all considerably cut up by to-night’s scene. And now, as I have had several broken nights lately, and am very tired, I will say good-bye. To-morrow I will talk things over.” “Now, what do you think it behoves us to do?” asked Hilton, who was as greatly perplexed and alarmed as Mr. Cory was. “I cannot understand how it happens that the Stavangers, senior and junior, and this Captain Cochrane, of whom Annie spoke, have not turned up.” “I have it,” said Mr. Cory, after some deliberation. “There has been some alteration of plans. We left home perhaps earlier than Annie expected, and there may even now be a message waiting for us. But here comes a woman. See how she loiters. One would think she was as much interested in this house as we are.” “Why, so she is! It is Miss Cory, I am sure.” And so it proved. It was Miss Cory indeed, looking for her brother and friend. “Whatever brings you here, Margaret?” asked Mr. Cory, in considerable surprise. “Come here and you shall know,” she answered. “You can do nothing more here, and I have much to tell you. Annie is not coming out to-night. She is all right. Now listen.” And as the trio walked homewards, Miss Cory gave them the following particulars: