And where was the next hush-money to come from? It was not probable that the banker would give her any more money before Christmas, and she could not ask him for more than what his own generosity bestowed on her. She had no claim upon his beneficence whatever. These two old harpies would be down upon her a dozen times before she would have another penny to give them. And as soon as they learned her inability to bribe them further, they would carry their fatal secret to Lancelot Darling or Mr. Lawrence. Mrs. Vance looked these difficulties in the face fairly, and could see but one way out of them. The hideous old witch, and her still more hideous old mate, must _die_. _Must die!_ No thrill of compunction or pity touched her heart as she made this fatal avowal to herself. On the contrary, she experienced a feeling of relief at the thought, mingled with a longing to consummate the deed quickly that she might taste the sweetness of revenge. They must die. But how? Her fertile brain could suggest no feasible plan for the execution of the dreadful deed she was determined upon. All through that night she tossed on a sleepless pillow, revolving various schemes in her excited mind. Morning found her haggard and pale, and all her paints and cosmetics could not conceal her wretchedly ill appearance. She would not present that agitated mien at the breakfast table, and had her morning repast sent up to her room on the plea of a severe headache. At noon she dressed herself in a plain, dark walking dress, wrapped a double veil about her head and face, and set forth upon her errand. She walked some distance, carefully selecting the most secluded streets, and shunning observation. At length she went into a small apothecary shop and purchased from an inexperienced boy-clerk some strychnine which she said she wanted for the purpose of destroying rats. She paid for it, tucked the small parcel inside the palm of her dark kid glove, and walked on steadily to her destination. Old Peter and his wife had just sat down to their frugal dinner when her quick rap sounded on the hall door. They looked at each other apprehensively. "It is she, no doubt," said he in a moment. "So the jade is come at last." He had been swearing all the morning at her tardiness. Haidee got up and went to the door, unlocked it, admitted the visitor, and turned the key again. "You see I keep my engagements punctually," said Mrs. Vance, pleasantly, as she tripped in, "although I barely expected to be called on so soon." The hostess only grunted in reply to this as she ushered the visitor into the low-ceiled, bare-looking room, where old Peter sat blowing his cup of hot tea. He looked up and gave the new-comer a gruff nod. Mrs. Vance stood still a moment taking in all her surroundings with a comprehensive glance, then she took the chair Haidee offered her, and placing it in a position to suit herself she sat down.