“Would you be up to much if a fever consumed you day and night?  Feel my hand, Grand-dad.”

The old man gripped the slender fingers, then flung them away.

“Good God! they burn!” he said.  “Don’t touch me, witch.  You may have contracted something catching.”

“No, nothing that the old man can catch.  Now, let us be pleasant, and enjoy the day together.”

“We can’t.  I am going to move to-day.”

“You must stay here to-day; you can move tomorrow.”

“Witch, how you order me.  I won’t be ordered.  I shall move to-day.”

“You have no idea of moving, either to-day or to-morrow.  Don’t talk nonsense.  You have had your breakfast.  I will wash the things up.  Go and visit the barber.”

The old man muttered and mumbled.  Finally he tied a large crimson scarf in a loose knot round his throat, shoved a soft felt hat on his head, and donning a greasy and very old brown velvet cloak, he prepared to go out.

“It’s a rare nuisance,” he said; “I meant to try some Chinese cooking for dinner; something with a subtle aroma, delicate, and hard to obtain.  You boil the leeks for so many hours, and catch the essence in a distiller.  Bah! you care nothing for eating, witch.”

“I like some of your dishes very well, Granddad, but I prefer cleanliness to luxury.  Now, go out and get shaved.”

“It will cost me sixpence.”

“Sixpence well spent.  Don’t talk any more; go!”

He blew her a kiss, half of derision, half of pride, and shambled downstairs.  A crowd of little boys followed him up the street; some pulled his cloak, some mocked him openly.  He neither felt the pulls nor heard the words.  He was absorbed in the thought of that delicious Chinese dinner which he could not now partake of to-day.

As soon as he was gone, Nina, too, ran downstairs.  She went to a chemist’s, and boldly asked for a small quantity of a certain drug.

“Have you a prescription?” the man inquired.

“No, but I understand the right proportions to take.  Why do you hesitate?  I am not asking for poison.”

The man stared hard at the bright, queer face of his customer.

“The drug is not poison,” he slowly repeated, “but taken in too large quantities it can inflict an injury.  I will give it to you, but you must enter your name and address in this book.”

Josephine laughed lightly, entered old Hart’s address in the book, paid for her medicine, and departed.  As soon as she got home she took out of a cupboard a decanter which contained a small portion of a very bright and clear wine.  She mixed a little of the powder with the wine.  It dissolved instantly, and did not disturb the rare amber of the liquid.  The rest of the powder Nina threw into the fire, burning both paper and string.

When Hart came back, shaven and neat, his hair shortened, his long snow-white beard trimmed, he looked what he was—­a strikingly handsome man.  His grand-daughter possessed his regular features, but, although her eyes were as bright as his, they were not dark.  She had black eyelashes and black brows, but the eyes themselves were peculiarly light.