"Thanks be to the saints!" cried Petronella. "This way Signor Dottore. My signora is up the stair. Piano! Piano. She is bad so bad. Piano!" Herrick suppressed a laugh. The "Piano! Piano" of Petronella reminded him of the opening chorus in the Barber of Seville. However he recovered his grave air when introduced into the bedroom of Mrs. Marsh. A few minutes examination convinced him that she was extremely ill. Her pulse was rapid, she was in a high fever, and her face looked scarlet. Still she was conscious, and when the doctor had finished with her for the time being she beckoned to her step-son. "The death--the examination?" she asked hoarsely. "The jury have brought in a verdict of wilful murder against Frisco." In spite of the pain she was suffering Mrs. Marsh sank back on her pillow with a smile. "I always thought that man would kill Carr some day" she muttered. "Who is the doctor Stephen?" Marsh detailed all he knew about Herrick while that gentleman was giving directions to Petronella. His step-mother listened attentively, and nodded when he finished. "I am glad he had the decency to come," she said. "These wretches here should be punished by the law. I don't want to die now there is a chance of being comfortable for the rest of my life." "You must not talk Mrs. Marsh," said Herrick coming to her bedside, "and I think your son had better go downstairs." "Am I very ill?" asked the woman. "Oh, you are not so bad as you might be," replied Jim cheerfully, "do not excite yourself, obey my directions, and you will be all right shortly." "I suffer such pains," moaned Mrs. Marsh, "I can get no sleep. Chloral." "What's that?" asked Herrick sharply. "Chloral or morphia. Give me something to soothe the pain." "I'll see to it," said the doctor cheerfully, and looked at the handsome face of his patient. He saw that she was a highly-strung woman, and from the word she had used he guessed that she was in the habit of taking chloral to induce sleep. Mrs. Marsh was the kind of person who would end her days in a mad-house, if not soothed by artificial means. From the passionate expression in her eyes, the wrinkles on her face, her impatient gestures, Herrick saw that she had absolutely no control over her temper. Perhaps the rumours he had heard of her influenced such a judgment; but afterwards he found that he was absolutely right. The outbursts of rage to which Mrs. Marsh was subject were little removed from madness. The only person who could deal with her was Petronella, who (as Herrick learned) had been her nurse, and knew how to manage and humour her. "I shall stay here all night," he said to the Italian, after certain remedies had been applied. "Make up a bed for me somewhere and send out to the chemist for this prescription to be made up."